


Pins and Sins

by thewronglong



Series: Eternity Welcomes Careful Drivers [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Red Dwarf
Genre: BAMF Cat (Red Dwarf), Cats, Crossover, Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Lots of Cats, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, On the part of Lister/Rimmer, Other, Pining, Whipping, Whipping in a non sexual way, this is not the sex you're looking for, you are now subscribed to cat facts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 32,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewronglong/pseuds/thewronglong
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley left the cats to their beloved Fushal, but they didn't know that in just a few short centuries they would be visited upon by Famine.





	1. Chapter 1

"They do know we can just," Aziraphale snapped his fingers, "and be there, right." 

"They agreed upon two weeks, gives them time to wrap their heads around the idea. Mostly it's for Cat to pick a wardrobe." The couple lay together in bed. Aziraphale read a book that would have been long turned to dust had it not been his own. Crowley was scrolling through a holographic star chat that was floating above his head. 

"Two weeks to pick out a wardrobe? I thought Cats weren't allowed more than seven suits."

"That's those religious weirdos you hung around. Cat doesn't buy into that crap."

"I guess it would make it difficult to keep the faith when you see your god pick his nose."

Crowley laughed. "Crazy how he has a whole race of people worshipping, well, more than half at least. I told you something was off when they're Holy Mother was called Frankenstein."

"I thought it was just a really odd coincidence. Having a faith of any kind is so rare nowadays. It really brought me back."

"I wonder if I could have actually gone in their temples the whole time."

"I guess we'll see won't we."

"It's not a horrible concept, putting you faith in man. Not much different than us, really." Crowley swept aside the simulated stars before him just to watch them pass by.

"Are you going to convert? Put your faith in Dave Lister?"

"What have you been doing with your ideas about a new Adam and Eve? You seem to have great faith in him finding his mate."

"I would say it's more of a hope. How did he cope? With seeing Earth, that is. I do wish I could have been there."

"Aziraphale, it was not a pretty sight. I wouldn't want you to have to see it, and Eden that way."

The angel looked up from his pretended scanning of his book now. "You saw the garden?" 

Crowley had not mentioned Eden, or the box, or anything really beyond the fact that Old Home Terra was dead. He'd wanted to tell him, but with everything else going on he hadn't had the time. At least that what he told himself. In reality he was scared to tell the angel what he'd done, especially with his sword. "I had to know." He went on to tell of the afternoon he and the human had spent in the desert they once called home, stopping only after the pins were placed on Lister's jacket.

"I don't like this, Crowley, not one bit."

"You gave the sword to humanity, and," the demon shrugged, "he's humanity, or what's left of it."

"How did you even manage to transform such a weapon?"

"I'm not entirely sure. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time."

Aziraphale put his book to the side and miracled up Lister's leather jacket. When he turned it over to search for the sword turned pin a bunch of beer tabs fell out of the pocket along with two tiny ball bearings. Out of curiosity he checked the other pocket only to find a half eaten meat pie. He rolled his eyes and put it back, leaving the rest of the trash scattered on the duvet. He peered at the pin. "That's my sword, or was, at least, but I don't understand the snake. Isn't that a symbol for infinity?"

"It's called the Ouroboros."

"Oh, yes, I remember. A very ancient symbol, but why is it here?"

"It was on his message from Death as well. David Lister may seem like an ordinary human being, but that is definitely not the case. Being the Cat's god is barely scratching the surface."

"How do you mean?"

"There used to be a woman with him, for a time. Kristine, he said her name was."

Aziraphale perked up at this. Could she be a new Eve?

"They made a baby together before she left."

"That's a very odd way to put it. Did she leave with the child.

"No, Aziraphale, listen. They made the baby, she didn't have the baby. It was some sort of artificial womb or what have you. Although they did use the usual ingredients. She left years ago. Went off with some other Rimmer, not like his brother or something but another HIM. That I don't fully understand myself, we never got that far and I may have been a little stoned. But the point is when she left she didn't take the baby with her."

"Well where is the child, did it die?"

"No, here's the good part. Dave is that child, they took him- don't look at me like that, I'm serious here- they took the baby back in time and abandoned him in a bar in Liverpool. Dave Lister is that baby. He is his own dad." Crowley sat back on the headboard and hoped his explanation had been coherent enough to understand.

"That's not possible though, they'd have to.."

"Time travel. I know, right!? Apparently it's no big deal to them. Done it dozens of times. Kryten keeps the controls under wraps. Mucking about in time is dangerous, they at least recognize that. Oh, and get this. That woman? His mum, or girlfriend, or whatever, is from another dimension. That's where she went. She's gone. Poof! Another dimension, infinite possibilities. It's insane. I mean, you hear stories, and theory and such, but time travel? Alternate universes that can be reached? Babe, we may have stumbled upon something big here. I gave that," Crowley pointed to the button shining on the slightly smelly leather, "to him because it is his birthright, I think he'll use it because that's his fate."

"War." Aziraphale whispered, running his finger around the imprint of the snake.

"But with who?" 

They both had their ideas.


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you mean he isn't coming! He bloody well better come, this whole trip is for his benefit. Fucking cats, man! He's got more clothes than I do and I've been working on my wardrobe for over three million years!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Crowley, sir, but he can be quite stubborn." Kryten had spent a good portion of his RAM (almost .0000327%) the past couple of weeks trying to decide on the proper way to address the angel and the demon. He could think of all kinds of things to call Aziraphale, most of them sounding absolutely papal, but for Crowley, it was difficult to pick something that didn't sound insulting, even if it was accurate. If going through the rounds of "please, Kryten, Aziraphale, or even Zira, is just fine," was awkward, then the instances of "Crowley will do," had been absolutely mortifying. Perhaps it was because the demon had stopped bothering with the magic he had been using to keep him from being able to see his real eyes behind his glasses. The pupils he'd been seeing before had been round, although disquietingly still. Now he could easily make out the off-putting set of demonic slits through the dark glass. Crowley knew the mechanoid could see his eyes too, he'd used the discomfort it caused for his own amusement more than once. The only thing keeping Kryten from getting the nervous jitters every time he was around Crowley was remembering the time he'd caught the demon gazing lovingly at the angel when he had forgotten anyone could see. In the end Kryten hand settled on calling both angel and demon by "Mr" plus their respective names, with extra "sir's" thrown in there depending on the state of his nerves at the time. "You see, sir, he's locked himself in his main closet suite and Mr Lister and I can't get him to come out. Rimmer even tried switching to soft light and going in there but the Cat ended up throwing a dressmaker's dummy right through him!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it? Pick him up by the scruff of his neck and toss him down there?" Crowley had already put this on his list of viable options. 

"Perhaps you could loan him something." Aziraphale suggested, "you always look so smart."

"He raided my closet four days ago. He's got a good third of my wardrobe squirreled away somewhere in those rooms of his. He even nabbed a set of our best silk sheets."

"Were they maroon?" Kryten asked.

"Yes"

"I think that's what got thrown through Mr. Rimmer."

"Enough outfits to change every hour we are there and he has nothing to wear." 

Aziraphale hid a smile, knowing that Crowley had knowingly let the feline sneak in a "steal" his clothes. "Perhaps you should go see to him, dear. He's only nervous about meeting his people."

"Me!? I don't remember adopting any cats!"

"I'll go if I must," Aziraphale said, straightening his bow tie. "Maybe I can teach him the benefits of wearing tartan." He glanced sidelong at Crowley.

"Fine! I guess it falls on me to save us all from this fashion crisis." He clicked his fingers dramatically and vanished. 

Crowley found Cat standing topless in a mountain of fabrics. Accessories of all sorts scattered the floor and a mirror in the corner had been shattered into a thousand pieces. "You know, if you leave your clothes on the floor they'll get wrinkled."

"Why do you care, sidewinder?"

"Because a good portion of it is mine." With a snap the room was clean, with rows of suits hanging neatly on racks. "That's better. Now, get dressed, we're going."

"In what? Nothing I have is right! It's all," he swiped his arm across a newly tidied dresser, knocking everything off. "not enough." 

Crowley crossed the room in a fury. "We've made this whole trip for your benefit." He jabbed a pointy finger into Cat's chest. "Do you think I want to go down there galavanting around just so you can get laid? If it wasn't for Aziraphale's desire to go play guardian angel to a bunch of kitties I'd be happy to never set foot on that rock again. But we're goin down there, and so are you, even if I have to drag you down there myself! I'm going to snap my fingers once, and what I put on you is what you're going to wear, because if I have to snap it off again your hide's going with it, got it!"

Cat nodded.

"Good Kitty," Crowley snapped again.

The suit Cat now wore fit him like a glove, impeccably tailored better than even he could do himself. The jacket's fabric, if you could call it that, was a series of tiny interlocking incandescent scales, each gleamed a rainbow of colors. If Crowley had been wearing something similar you'd say it resembled a snakes scales, but upon closer investigation you'd notice that it was actually fish scales you were looking at. When pressed down upon they got hard, like a sort of mail, but they moved freely and felt light as air. The lining of the jacket was a black in stark contrast to the onslaught of color that the jacket seemed to emanate on it's own. The jacket hung almost to his knees and a stripe of similar scales ran down the legs of his pants. 

Cat admired the garnet in a recently restored mirror. "Not bad," he preened, "for a danger noodle."


	3. Chapter 3

Lister strummed his guitar idly as he waited for the others to prepare for the trip It was strange getting ready to go planet side without having to load into the Starbug first. No supplies had been packed away, no new zip ties placed on power converters, no extra bog rolls in the john. Just a handful of outcasts and a shit ton of magic. Holy magic, Lister thought, infernal magic. A lot of the things he'd experienced the past had been seemingly magical, but there had always been Holly, and later Kryten, there with some scientific explanation for it all. The events of the last few weeks had no explanation, it was meant to be taken on faith. Faith in God and her ineffable plan. Had all that stuff he'd gone through in the last twenty odd years been just been a primer for what was to come? He felt like he was turning the crank on giant jack in the box and when it finally pops open all smeg would break loose.

Lister put his hand in his jacket pocket and fished around. He found Rimmer's worry balls, worn down from centuries of use. He didn't take them out, he never did, just feeling them there eased his tension. They really did work. He'd found them in Rimmer's things after he'd left to be Ace and put them in his right hand pocket on a whim. They'd stayed there ever since. He'd switched jacket's since then, but the balls remained, even after Rimmer came back. He wondered if Arnold had even noticed them missing. It didn't matter, he wasn't getting them back. Lister felt around in another pocket and produced a half eaten pork pie. He picked the lint off and ate it as he waited.

Rimmer strode into the bunk room a moment later. He may or may not have been waiting to be sure that Lister was done with the guitar. "Cat's finally ready, Holly said it only took an infernal miracle."

"It would." Lister said with his mouth full.

"I've just been in Bently, he said he'll cloak the Dwarf while we're away…. What are you smiling about?"

"You've been IN Bently? Freddie would be proud."

Rimmer blushed at the insinuation. "You know what I meant. It's damned confusing having a ship and it's computer with the same name. Why can't they have the ship called after the car and the computer could be something else?"

"I get the feeling they're one in the same. You've seen the library, not to mention the gardens and museums, not even one of those rooms would fit what the ship looks like on the outside."

"Still bloody confusing if you ask me."

"I've been trying not to think about it too much." Lister confessed. "Heaven, and Hell, rock star computers, and Death."

Rimmer thought Lister was talking about death, lower case, happens to everyone, death. Lister hadn't found it necessary to tell him about the box and the message from Death himself. It would only scare him. He was still getting over the shock from a few weeks before. Lister still though about how the guy had practically crawled up in his lap. "Well, from what Aziraphale told me neither place is recommended," Rimmer said," so I'll just stay right here, thank you very much." 

"Oh, are you not going, sir?" Kryten had just heard the tail end of his thought when he came clunking into the bunk room, the angel not far behind. They had been told to meet there for the excursion. "Very well then, I'll…"

"I'm going you dense droid. Do you only ever hear what you want to hear?"

"Oh, no, only a few minutes ago I heard Lister playing guitar."

"Har, har, Kryten." Lister jumped down from the bed and went to grab a beer. "Want one?" He offered a can to Aziraphale. It had become a ritual. He'd open a can and offer one to the angel, just to be told…

"No thank you, David, some other time, perhaps."

Lister put the tab from his can in the pocket with Rimmer's balls. There was getting to be quite the collection in there, The angel didn't know it but one of these days he was going to redeem them and they were going to get quite drunk.

Cat slid into the room shining like greased lightning. He seemed to shimmer in every color. Lister whistled. 

"Don't I know it." Cat grinned and did a quick twirl. "Fushal ain't ready for something so fine."

Crowley watched from the doorway. Lister thought he looked smug, and a little proud, but knew better than to say anything. 

The demon did like the garment he'd miracled up. It wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he'd snapped it into existence, but now it seemed like the only thing it could have been. He wore a jacket of a similar texture now, cut more to his style and in a deep black. The scales he wore were definitely of a snake and only showed a bit of deep purples and yellows when he moved. He hoped no one noticed that they sort of matched. He didn't want any of the crew to start getting the idea that he'd grown a bit fond of Cat. That wouldn't do.

"It's beautiful!" Aziraphale clapped at Cats fashion show, then beamed at the demon, "you look quite dashing yourself dear, I see you've gotten yourself a new suit as well. I suppose I should get ready myself then." 

With a flourish of his hand the angel's own clothes changed. No longer there was the creamy white of his usual coat and pants. It had been replaced with pale orange tartan. The designs tightened and loosened giving the illusion of stripes, strands of gold weaved through the thicker parts adding a shine to the stripes. His tie had taken on the creme color, but it too had a weave of fine gold shot through it. His waistcoat was gold brocade. The suit could be described as both hideous and beautiful at the same time and both would be right. 

The most jarring of the changes he'd made though was to his hair. An orange gold stripe streaked through the white gold of his curls, giving him an almost tabby look. The darker shade was a bit longer than the rest, as if that hair grew faster, a couple of springy curls fell down over his forehead. He smiled at everyone's surprise, showing two dainty little canines that he knew would take at least a week to get his words around. 

Crowley grinned, "That's a lot better than the custard stained robes you wore last time."

The angel turned cat straightened his tie. "Well, I thought that If I'm going to be the sort of cat that travels with you flash bastards I'd better look the part."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may or may not have just been an elaborate excuse to write cat Aziraphale.


	4. Chapter 4

"Do I have to…" Lister looked Aziraphale up and down, "be a…?" He didn't want to finish the sentence any more than he wanted to be a cat. His nipples had never been the same since his pregnancy and the idea of having four more made him cringe.

"Oh, no, dear boy." The angel answered, "you are human to the core, and such a disguise wouldn't work against the cats. They are alarmingly perceptive. The cat people will know right away that we are different. This illusion is just to facilitate amiable interactions."

"He just wanted to dress up." Crowley teases.

"I did not!" 

The couple bickered back and forth for a bit. Lister couldn't help but be amused as he watched. He realized that he was glad they were delaying the departure. Cat was checking himself once again in his little mirror. Would this be the last time he'd ever watch Cat preen? Possibly not, but soon it would be. Nobody had said it out loud, but it was pretty obvious that he was leaving. He was home now. Lister would do the same, if he still had a home. He guessed the Dwarf was home now, as close as he'd ever find at least. It wasn't the ship so much as the people who made it that way. Kryten's cooking was home. Rimmer's time tables and long winded rants were home. Cat's beauty products and naps in inconvenient places were home. Now part of that home was breaking away. He felt like should say something, do something, give him something. His hand found its own way to the silver fish bone pinned to his jacket. Was it a gift if it was already his?

"Cat." He heard himself saying almost too loudly. All the banter and exited talking in the room had died down. He cleared his throat. "Cat… man, there's... something wrong with your suit."

"What!? Nah, it's perfect."

"No it's missing something." Lister's eyes flicked over to Crowley. He knew the demon would know what the gift was. He hesitated for just an instant, realizing the burden it could potentially be as well. But deep inside he knew it had to be done. Now or never, right? "This… is yours." He pinned the fish to Cats shining lapel. He noticed that the materials was slightly different on the spot he placed it, as if the jacket.had been designed with the little bauble in mind.

"Hey, not bad. It even matches my suit!"

"Don't lose it, you hear me? If you ever get tired of it, give it back to me."

"You ain't getting it back, monkey, it's mine now. You said!"

"I did. Keep it safe." He hugged the startled Cat. "Alright!" He said afterwards trying to lighten the mood. "We going or not?"

With a click of the fingers they vanished.


	5. Chapter 5

Fushal wasn't Fiji, but it was nice just the same. Crowley had snapped them into the country, not too far from one of the major cities. Experience had taught him to err on the side of caution. Their motley little crew didn't need to come across too many cats at once. He didn't feel like being drowned as a heretic a second time. It was one of those early autumn days where it was just cold enough to need a jacket, but you could go without one if you stayed in the sun. I would have been a pleasant walk if there had been a path. 

Cat picked his way through the brush with ease. He was awash with new smells. Strongest were the plants, with a hint here or there of some small animal hidden away in fear of the hunt. He ignored his instinct to search them out, to hunt, then play with, then eat the living morsels of meat. He could also smell the distinct but faded odor of other cats. Someone had been near here before, multiple someone's. Some markers were faded away with time, others fresher but farther away. A few of the someones scents spoke of potential love, others of distress, but many were just to say "this is mine." It didn't really matter to Cat what they said, because what they meant was "WE ARE HERE." Cat used these markers to find the road. 

As they walked the overgrown path Cat began to feel uneasy. It was as if there was an undercurrent to it all, a feeling of something being wrong, terribly wrong. His companions could sense it too, through him. His whole air had changed. He was no longer on a casual stroll through the forest with friends, he was positively stalking along now, on high alert. Then the wind shifted and he caught a whiff of something, something terrible. He took off running in a streak. After a moment he came to a skidding halt, Crowley almost slamming into his back, Rimmer wasn't far behind. He began to dig through the brush beside the path. By the time Lister came puffing up last the first three were hauling something out of the brush. 

It was a woman. A female cat, that is. She lay limp in Cat's arms, barely breathing. Her hair was a dark gray that teetered on the edge of blue. It looked as if she hadn't given it any thought in quite a while. Her skin was gray as well. Perhaps at one point it held a similar tone as her hair, but now it was faded and blotchy. It stretched paper thin over her frame. Her cheeks were hollow, her pulse could be seen moving weakly in her neck. Cat could tell she was still pretty young and that not too long ago she had been a great beauty, but starvation had taken that from her. What little energy she may have used to survive her plight had been used to keep the kits alive in her very large abdomen. 

Aziraphale knelt by the woman and placed a hand on her face. She smiled a little and stirred. She tried to say something. ".. go… the witch, have her.." and closed her eyes again. 

"She doesn't have long." The angel said, stroking her face.

"Can't you fix her?" Cat asked. "I thought that's what you guys did."

"It's not like closing a wound or taking a tumor, she's been on the precipice for a long time, balancing between the life of her litter and the call of her death. I can keep her going, but she still labors. I don't have the power to stop it."

"But…" Lister states the obvious, "if she dies so do they."

The woman groaned. Without opening her eyes she pulled something from her clothes. It was a scrap of torn cloth. She pushed it into Cat's hand before going limp and unconscious.

"What is it?" Lister asked. 

Cat sniffed it. "An address."

"She did mention a witch," remarks Kryten, "which was a term used for midwives in the years before modern obstetrics. Perhaps that's where she was going."

"How can a witch save her if an angel can't?" asked Rimmer.

"Maybe I can't save the mother," Aziraphale said, picking up the woman with an unseen strength, "but maybe we can save her kits."

"Just what I need," Crowley thought as they followed The Cat down a barely visible side path, "a cat witch."


	6. Chapter 6

The building was more thatch than house, low and long. She was waiting for them when they arrived, her arm holding the door open for the angel who carried the woman in. Cat meant to follow them, but she held out an arm. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but was really only a few seconds. Finally Cat turned away and with a small huff and the witch slammed the door shut.

So they waited. Hours passed. They milled about her yard, none daring to mention what was going on inside. Kryten would get up and act like he was going to try the door only to turn around at the last second. He did this a few times until Lister mentioned that the witch's garden was very messy and could use a good tidy. Lister made a clumsy attempt at cutting wood, Rimmer would have been greatly amused by this had it not been for the events that were taking place inside the nearby structure. Crowley decided to show them how it was properly done before Lister went and hurt himself. His attempts were just as bad, he'd never actually had to split wood before, but he at least knew how to handle the axe without breaking it or himself. 

Cat sat leaning against the house under a shuttered window. He strained to hear what was going on within. If the woman was alive, he thought, there would be screaming. That's what happened in the movies at least. There should be screaming. All he heard was muffled voices. He could smell blood. He didn't move the entire three hours he sat there, didn't nap, didn't even check his hair. Finally, a small mewl, then more voices. Then goosebumps, a flash of power, and another small mewling. The angel opened the door.

 

 

It was a small procession to take the mother to her resting place. Aziraphale carried the mother, Cat and the Witch each held a small bundle, Kryten carried a shovel. Together they disappeared into the forest. Rimmer felt useless watching them leave. He didn't know how he could help. At least Kryten didn't mind the physical labor, and he couldn't compete with heritage or divine intervention. He was an outside observer. Still, he didn't have it as bad off as Crowley. When the demon discovered the witch had her house warded and he couldn't enter to see the kits he'd miracled up a basket of baby supplies and slunk off to parts unknown. At least Rimmer could go inside, so he did.

Lister sat in his shirt sleeves on the witch's bed, in his arms were two squirming kits. They were tiny no more than three or four pounds each. They say side by side in the crook of his arm he fed them both with one hand, two bottles shoved between splayed fingers. Rimmer had seen him do this before. Memories came flooding back. The insane pregnancy, the fear of the birth. The pain of giving them up. Jim and Bexley would be almost men by now. They definitely would look it. Three days. That's all he'd had. Rimmer slid into a bench by the door. Lister continued to coo at the babies, one wrapped in blue, the other pink. "I…" Rimmer started, but stopped when he felt his voice start to break. 

Lister looked up at the stopped syllable. His eyes were glassy, his expression soft. They stared at each other both knowing what the other was thinking, but not wanting to say. 

Rimmer reached down and moved a blanket to the side to get a better look. They looked remarkably like human babies. The girl was black, but she had a patch of white just under her chin that spread down to the crease of her neck. Her tiny hands kneaded at the bottle one completely white, the other just her chubby fingers. The boy was a whitish pink. Fine white hairs covered his wrinkled head. If he didn't continue to suckle, Rimmer would think he was asleep. He stroked it's cheek and it stirred. "I wish…" he cleared his throat, "I wish I could have held them, just once."

"Come sit by me." Lister scooted over and patted the bed beside him. With the ease of experience he held onto one baby and gently transferred the girl into Rimmer's arms. "Watch her head, I think they're necks are stronger than ours, but I don't want to find out that I'm wrong."

Rimmer held the squirming newborn out from his body, afraid to break it. He'd never held a baby. He wondered what baby Lister had looked like, probably not that much different than Jim and Bexley, they would be like triplets. 

"No, hold her closer to you, she needs your body heat. Like this." Lister put the boy to his own chest to show him.

Rimmer reluctantly emulated the movement. The infant curled into his heat. He smiled when he heard a tiny purr. 

"See, it's easy." Lister held up the boy in front of him. "Right Pete?" The baby squirmed. He held it back to him.

"Pete, huh?"

"I don't know, he reminds me of Peterson. All pink and squishy."

Rimmer laughed. "Does that make this Selby?"

"I was thinking Shelby would be better for a girl."

"Do cats even use names?"

"I'm not sure, but for now that's what I'm calling them."

"What will happen to them?"

"I don't know. The Witch may adopt them out."

"That might be easier said than done." Crowley said from outside the open door.

"Why?" Asked Rimmer.

"Because the people of Fushal are starving."


	7. Chapter 7

The Grand Chungus rolled over. Well, more to say he WAS rolled over. The act of rolling over was just the last item on the list of things he no longer did for himself. He lay on his ample stomach in a gold lined pit of sand as three adolescent servants scrubbed at his back and bottom with large soft brushes. He spent all of his time here now, save for on Tuesdays when they changed the sand. He ignored the report being read to him. It was one of his duties as the head of the most powerful religious sect on Fushal, which by default made him head of the local government, and arguably one of the most powerful cats on the planet.

Religious dissension has always been a part of cat life, going back to the old times when they warred across the stars. Cats believed that arguing about religion was the best part of having one, whether you actually believed what you were saying or not. On the ark there was little room to argue with the sect in control, that's how you got spaced. But now they were free to interpret how they pleased. Most kept to the basics of the Old Religion. Reverence to the Holy Mother, (our Frankenstein, hallowed be her mane), was a given. Cloister usually was too, although some would argue it was not he who led them to Fushal, but a certain orange tabby who disappeared the day of arrival. 

The major split had actually begun on the ark itself. The priesthood of the Old Religion had technically been in charge of the vessel. The captain and his crew had other ideas. There was a constant undertone of resentment from both sides, but at the time survival dictated that they silently coexist. The scientifically minded pilots resented the "visions" the religious leaders had about where they should go, and the dogmatic cat leaders resented their counterparts understanding of the vessel on which they lived. 

Upon landing both parties had felt lost. No longer did they search for the unobtainable, now they were home. They stood together on the unervingingly solid surface of their Fushal and collectively thought "Now what?"

It was easy to preach the gospel of sloth when they were stuck on a ship with nothing really to do, but now they had a monumental task ahead of them. If they wanted their Utopia they'd have to work for it. At least that's what the crew thought. They led the way to the new beginning. The ship's lowest ranking sand scraper became one of Fushal's greatest hunters. Hierarchy's changed, the Cat People thrived.

Able to breed freely now, the population exploded, new cities mushroomed, villages dotted the countryside. Centuries passed and now they could breathe easy. The Old Religion had long ago shattered, and now in its place the new orders began to pop up. They vied for power in the vacuum created by the people's need to argue, and one specifically came out on top: The Royal Order of the Chung.

The Chung, as they were called in casual conversation preached the virtues of sloth and filth, turning away from the newer waves of casual coolness that marked the members of their main opposition, the Cat Cartel. The Cartel ran the catnip trade of Bearth, Fushal's greatest city and capital. The Chung had taken over the government of the city some fifty odd years before, using the inherent laziness and growing unrest of the Cat population to take control. 

Laziness was at an all-time peak, people began to ignore their gardens, depending solely on the kills of their local hunting guilds, but the cats were an invasive species and had hunted the countryside bare except for a few very terrified squirrels. The people were starving. The Grand Chungus, however, was not. He popped another hot dog into his greasy mouth, eating it in one bite. He was the Chungus, it was his duty. He had to adhere to the rite of gluttony, his size brought him closer to Cloister. The fact that he loved it was beside the point.

He didn't look up when he heard footsteps approach, he knew the long stride of The Assistant. Assistant was more of a title than a job. No one was really sure what he actually did, or how he fit into the hierarchy of the order. He didn't mind, his job was going swimmingly. He got down on one bony knee and handed The Chungus a donut. The obese cat chewed contentedly as he listened to a proposal whispered into his ear, he nodded. 

The Assistant stood up. "Great idea, your Chungus, I'll get right on it." He turned on his heel and smiled to himself when he let the door slam shut behind him.

Famine quite liked cats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .


	8. Chapter 8

The two cats watched, contented to let the other two work. The Witch was satisfied, her words had been said and scent markers placed around the grave. The mech was finishing filling in the grave and the strange orange tabby that she was sure wasn't a cat but something else entirely had produced a hammer and a chisel and was carving something into a nearby rock. "Strange companions you keep." She muttered.

"Mmmhmm" Cat watched the jewels and baubles she had filling her locked hair glint in the sun. 

Her skin was a shade of black that shone almost a silver color. Her eyes were a deep green shot with yellow. They showed an intelligence that Cat found as intimidating as he found intriguing. She was the type of cat that if she looked over your shoulder you would swear that she saw something there that you didn't, and you would probably be right. 

"Is that all you got to say, city cat?"

"City?"

"Look at ya! All shiny and new shoes. What's a rich fish doing out here in the sticks with a bunch of… whatever they are? That Cartel fella on the run?"

"Cartel?"

"Don't play dumb with me. I know what them sunglasses mean. Ya'll rip off a boss?"

"I don't have anything to do with his boss! You should know, you knew we were coming."

"I knew something was coming. The air ain't right. The people are dying. You look pretty healthy, rich fish. Been eating good."

"I'm not a rich fish!"

"How many suits do you own?" 

….

"I'm not one of those dummy city puss's. I know things." She leaned in closer breathing deep through her nose. First she could smell his desire, and wondered why he hadn't tried to act on it yet, that was odd. Odder still was that he didn't smell of the city, didn't smell of the country either, for that matter. He smelled different, of something else. 

She cocked her head, causing a lock of hair to fall over her face. Cat resisted the urge to bat at it and watch it swing. They had just buried the first female cat he'd ever laid eyes on, now was not the time for sex. 

"You ain't from around her, are you?" She asked.

Cat shook his head.

"Where then?"

Cat pointed straight up.

She jumped to her feet. "You're… one of the abandoned?" His unearthly smell made sense now. He was from space. Visitors from the stars were not unheard of. Just last month three garbage pods from a nearby Gelf colony had landed by the coast, and she had not been startled to see the mechanoid, thought she'd never actually seen one other than in picture books. As a witch she had books that told of things from the sky. Strange tales of simulants and droids could be smelt at a whim. Aziraphale would be greatly interested in her library if he had noticed it. She even had a few ancient tomes which held actual human writing. They had been copied by her ancestors and passed down to her. She was proud of her ability to read the words of the heavens, the words of Cloister. 

"Abandoned..." Cat didn't like the word, although he knew it was true. He'd heard the Priest use it a few times when he was a kit. It was a big word, full of empty halls and cold steel.

"You are!" She exclaimed. "Imagine meeting someone from the home ship. Are they from the red one too? She gestured I the direction of Zira and Kryten. She didn't wait for an answer. "I have so many questions. What did your people do after we left?"

"They died." What did they think would happen to the culls and disabled, Cat thought bitterly. His trip home was turning out to be nothing like he'd imagined. He got up and began making his way back to his friends leaving The Witch to her own ideas. 

The walk back had been full of tension, with only the occasional chatting between the metal man and the cat with the orange stripe in his hair. She was weary of that one, but drawn to him just the same. He had a golden glow to him. She wondered if he was a witch, he felt like magic. Male cat witches were rare, but they did exist, but they didn't dress like this fella. His hair wasn't even locked. Still he had been knowledgeable about the birthing, a capable assistant. She didn't remember the miracle he'd used to save the boy, just a vague memory of power. 

Then there was the one who stalked silently beside her. She could feel his tension in her own shoulders making her want to crack her neck for relief. He was on high alert and moved as if he were being hunted. When she'd glance over at him he'd play it cool, like nothing bothered him. Perhaps this would fool a dumber cat or a not-cat, but she knew better. 

 

What would the other two members of her coven think of these strangers when they arrived the next day? She had sent for them both before the burial. The Elder Witch of the Swamp Who Chews the Grass and Scrapes the Trees and The Mamma Cat Who Made the Village of the Pumpkin Eaters would both be en route now. The Mamma was closer, which was good because she would know what to do with the two remaining from the litter. She hoped she hadn't made a mistake leaving them in the care of the… what was he? He said he'd watched babies before and that they would be fine, and he did wear the sacred locks, as ill maintained as they were, but he was not a cat. She frowned. How could she have left the kits there with them? He was fine, she was sure of it. She couldn't see his aura, but she could feel it, and it was beautiful. The other not-cat, the one with the symbol on his head, she was indifferent towards. But the other, the one who wore the glasses that marked the Cartel made her spine cold. He had the canines of a cat, but they were slightly off, somehow different. She was worrying herself over the strangers when her breath caught in her throat. There was a fire burning in the direction of her home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the result of me listening to the same song over and over. That song is "Lighting Crashes" by Live. It would probably be wise if you listen to it before or even while you read this chapter. The is probably just more self indulgent smeg, but it's been in my head all day and I just couldn't leave it out. I hope you enjoy it and understand the imagery I'm trying to convey using the song.

Crowley had started the fire, it was a little bigger than he'd initially intended, but there was nothing like a good fire to warm one's bones on a night like this. The temperature had dropped and although the sky above then was awash with stars there was a storm flashing on the horizon. It wouldn't hit them, but it made a spectacular light show. 

The Witch had come skittering into the yard obviously expecting the worst only to find a rather large campfire on the edge of what she'd call her yard proper. She had given Crowley a rather dirty look but said nothing instead hurrying into her house and pushing both Rimmer and Lister out. She found the kits cuddled together in a large basket she'd never seen before. They slept contentedly wearing matching outfits covered in little paw prints. The boy had something in his mouth. She pulled the pacifier out and looked at it. The false nipples on the bottles lying nearby were not exactly what cat mother's would use if they weren't able to nurse, but not dissimilar. This disembodied nipple idea was new to her. She wondered if it was necessary but from the boy's reaction when she removed it she decided it was a good idea and placed it back in his mouth. He was asleep again immediately. 

Crowley has been busy, Aziraphale thought as he entered what was now their camp. Nestled next to the treeline was a large tent. His and Crowley's he assumed. If he knew the demon the set up inside would be fit for his standards, borderline glamping. There were two smaller tents set up nearby.

Lister had his guitar. Rimmer had agreed to ask the demon for it against his will only because he'd seen the pain in his eyes when he held the twins. Now the scouser was strumming it I the fire light, not really playing anything.

"That sounds surprisingly good." Kryten commented.

"It's the miracle of actually being in tune." Rimmer commented. The music itself was no better, but at least it didn't make anyone try the cringe their teeth out of their head.

"Amazing what can happen when you have all six strings and none of them are the same." Crowley commented while poking at the fire with a long stick. 

The group fell quiet, all exhausted and somewhat depressed by the days events. It had been silently decided to stay on the planet, even though they could have easily returned to their respective ships. The only sound that could be heard was the songs of nearby frogs and insects mixed in with the occasional strumming of the newly tuned guitar.

Crowley sighed and held out a hand to Lister, who passed the instrument over. He wasn't the greatest musician, but when you had the time on your hands he'd had you pick things up. He played through a couple of classical pieces that he'd learned for Aziraphale's benefit. The angel only smiled a little at the music. This wasn't working. He tried to think of something to cheer the mood of the little camp, but most of his usual repertoire seemed inappropriate. He looked over at the storm in the distance, lowered his head and began to play the little amplifier plugged into the side of the instrument sounded tinny in the night air. He began to sing, barely above a whisper.

"Lightning crashes a new mother cries  
Her placenta falls to the floor"

Rimmer sat up straight, having had his elbows resting on his knees. Lister had this album.

"The angel opens her eyes"

Aziraphale's own eyes widened shining blue in the firelight. He'd never heard the demon play this song.

"The confusion sets in  
Before the doctor can even close the door"

"Lightning crashes an old mother dies  
Her intentions fall to the floor  
The angel closes her eyes  
The confusion that was hers  
Belongs now to the baby down the hall"

 

"Oh now feel it, comin' back again  
Like a rollin', thunder chasing the wind  
Forces pullin' from  
The center of the earth again  
I can feel it."

Lister adjusted in his seat, and to everyone's surprise took over the next verse.

"Lightning crashes a new mother cries"

New music started to play around them. They weren't sure if the additional sounds were due to Bently listening in and streaming the music though their communication watches and speakers or if it was there just because the demon thought it should be. 

"This moment she's been waiting for  
The angel opens her eyes  
Pale blue colored iris  
Presents the circle  
And puts the glory out to hide, hide"

Rimmer, having heard the song many times in the weeks after Jim and Bexley's departure, started to sing along to the next chorus with Lister and Crowley.

"Oh now feel it, comin' back again  
Like a rollin', thunder chasing the wind  
Forces pullin' from  
The center of the earth again  
I can feel it."

"I can feel it."

Cat had joined them in the last line, the "it" stretched out into a yowl. He could feel it, whatever it was. He'd known the song, but never really paid much attention to it when Lister had played it on repeat those many years ago. Now it pulled something from his gut. This strange feeling he got from his people's new homeworld. 

Oh now feel it, comin' back again  
Like a rollin', thunder chasing the wind  
Forces pullin' from  
The center of the earth again  
I can feel it.

Even Aziraphale and Kryten couldn't resist the force of what was happening around them. They were being pulled in by the music. Their voices added to the mix. The fire was growing bigger, it reached up impossibility tall for the space it occupied. It sent Sparks flying into the air, almost dancing to the song… chasing the wind.

The voices of the singers no longer completely synced up, each sang their own song of mourning, pulling from the heat of the moment. It somehow melded together in a round wall of power. 

Oh now feel it, comin' back again  
Like a rollin', thunder chasing the wind  
Forces pullin' from  
The center of the earth again  
I can feel it.

Again and again they wailed, then something broke, the last chord rang out, the fire settled, and a quiet fell over them. 

The Witch stood in her doorway, mouth agape at the awesome display of power she just witnessed. Who, no, what, were these strangers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A previous chapter's notes have been popping up on later posts :(


	10. Chapter 10

The angel was the first to stand, he was unsure of what had just happened, but somehow he felt better. His day had been a flood of blood and death, and he was exhausted. He was considering checking out the inside of the large tent that Crowley had conjured up when he noticed the silhouette of The Witch standing in her doorway. She had seen, and heard, whatever that was. He could wipe her memory, but he'd already done that once today and she was already suspicious. Perhaps they should go. They could drop Cat off in the city and… no that won't do. Being a witch was hard enough without being called a liar who made up stories about foreigners and fire songs. He'd have to decide quickly, she was coming. He had a half lie formed in his lips when she completely bypassed him and stopped in front of Cat, arms folded.

"Hey, witch babe!" He grinned. 

"Don't go tryin' to be suave now, space fish. Ya'll been doing magic in my yard!"

"What?" Aziraphale, who had followed her over interrupted, "there's no magic here… just a friendly campfire song. Kumbaya and that." He looked away from her scrutiny. He was never very good with witches. 

"It's alright," Cat stood up and put an arm around her, "these are my buds."

She twisted to get out from under his arm. She turned to Aziraphale. "You," she jabbed a finger into his chest, "are NOT a cat!"

"Of course he's not, babe. He's an angel."

A collective groan went up from the group. Cat looked around, his smile faltered. Aziraphale laughed nervously. 

The witch threw up her hands, "I knew it, you've got a glamour on you. I knew you weren't no cat… an angel, huh? What's that?"

The concept of angels and demons weren't dogmatic to cat religion, and aside from a certain pair they were pretty much left alone by both sides. 

"Well, in the beginning, there was God, and she…" Crowley came up beside Aziraphale, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop what was about to be a very long story.

The woman looked back and forth between the two in front of her, wondering how she could get such similar, yet so different vibes from them. "God?" She asked, "like.. Cloister?"

"No!" Lister interrupted, a little too loudly. 

She turned to him, he shrank back a little. "Are you one of these angels?"

"No, I'm just a human… nothing else. Definitely nothing like these two."

"Human? They all died ages ago the save for the one frozen in time." She scrutinized him as if he were a child lying about stealing candy. He took off his hat at scratched his head nervously. 

"I think perhaps, Mr Aziraphale, sir," Kryten said, trying to pull her attention from Lister, you should show her what you really are."

"Within comprehension." Crowley added.

"Why do I have to be the one?" The angel whined.

"Do you really think I should be the one to do it?" He lowered his glasses just enough to give a glance of yellow.

"I suppose not." First, he waved his hand to remove his cat like features. His clothes changed not to his usual coat and trousers, but to a flowing robe similar to the one he wore in the Garden. If he was going to make a spectacle of himself he was going to go all out. 

The Witch backed up slowly as the angel rose, stopping only to grip the sleeve of Cat's jacket. A light began to form, it was hard to tell if it came from the angel himself or somewhere behind him. When he unfurled his wings a collective gasp was let out by even those who had seen them before. Being aware of the power the angel held was different from actually seeing it above you, great, bright, and ineffably holy. 

Lister glanced over to see Rimmer's face bathed in light, his H shining. The hologram had grabbed his arm and his fingers dug into the leather of his jacket. He wondered if Arnold realized that this was the second time in the last month that he had grabbed him out of fear. He wouldn't say anything though, he knew Rimmer would either deny it, be angry, or both. Still, it made him feel warm inside to know that he was the one Rimmer gravitated towards for comfort. 

The light grew brighter, forcing Crowley to have to turn away. He saw the two men huddled together and wondered what Aziraphale would feel radiating from them at a moment like this, but he didn't have time to ponder on it, because at that point The Witch passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't lose you guys with that last chapter, I'm going to try to amp things up plot wise, so no one loses interest by the time we get to everyone's respective fates.


	11. Chapter 11

Once again Crowley stood looking into the door of the cottage. Upon seeing her collapse Aziraphale had immediately returned to his original state and they had carried her back to her bed. The angel laid a hand on her and her eyes snapped open. They widened upon seeing him, even with the cat glamour back on. "You!" She exclaimed, "You!"

"Those were my sentiments exactly." Rimmer said as he pushed herbs out of his face that hung from her low ceiling.

"It's alright," Crowley said from the doorway, "he's a being of love he won't hurt you."

"Oh, yes, mum." Kryten trying his best to calm her, "the official definition of an angel is a spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God, conventionally represented in human form with wings and a long robe. Nothing to fear."

"Messenger of God? What would he want with me? I try to serve Cloister as much as any other witch, keeping the sacred locks and all, but I'm no saint."

"Can you please stop saying that! Cloister is not God, he's just a bloke who brought a cat aboard a ship. God is all powerful, all knowing, in-smeggin-effable. I can barely work the microwave! Cloister is not God. I am not God!" All eyes were on Lister after his rant. A kit started to wail. "Smeg…" he went over and picked it up, both feeling guilty for waking the baby and embarrassed at his outburst. "Sorry, Shelby, it's alright, I didn't mean to lose me temper."

 

It took some convincing to get the Witch to accept at although Lister may be Cloister he was definitely not a god. Even Cat got in on it and regaled a few tales, one in particular about the time he bet Rimmer he could fit 12 ping pong balls in his mouth at once. He lost that bet, just barely. The show that Aziraphale had put on didn't help matters. Why would he be traveling with a servant of God if he wasn't one? Aziraphale couldn't just say that well he's not so much a servant of God as he is a servant of man, and man, as far as he could see consisted of Dave Lister right now. 

By the time they got her calmed and to agree to not call Lister God, the would be deity had fallen asleep in a chair, Shelby still in his lap. 

It was decided to call it a night. It had been an exhausting day for all involved and all those who needed sleep were dead on their feet. Even those who didn't actually need sleep but did it anyway retired. Kryten, having neither the ability or desire to sleep stayed up to play nursemaid. 

Rimmer lay there listening to Lister snore and wondered why Crowley hadn't just miracled them up separate tents. He was probably laughing with demonic glee at the two of them shoved in together, air mattresses almost touching. There was hardly enough room to put their boots. At least that was his excuse as he threw Lister's boots out the flap of the tent. As tired as he was, or at least thought he should be, he couldn't wind down enough to sleep. He lay there staring at the back of Lister's head as he slept. Why couldn't they have gotten a big tent too. I bet they have a four poster bed in there, he thought, with down comforters. All cuddled up together, cozy. He wondered what it was like, having someone to cuddle with, as he watched the man snoring a few feet away. It wasn't fair. Crowley was a demon, and he'd found someone. Of course they'd known each other since the beginning of time. How long had he known Lister? 15, maybe 20 years… Lister's time at least. Much longer if you counted the centuries he waited for his return on Rimmerworld. By the time they had come for him he'd barely recognized them, even though they had lived several lifetimes in his head. He liked to think that with the infinite possibilities that the universe had to offer that at least one these lifetimes were real… somewhere. He drifted off with one somewhere glowing in his mind's eye.

He awoke with a start, movement beside him. Lister was digging frantically in the blankets, mumbling something. He was asleep. Rimmer had heard him talking in his sleep many times over the years, but sleepwalking was rare. Now he appeared to be sleep crying. 

"Lister?" Rimmer tentatively reached out to him. 

"They're gone! They were just here… Jim, Bexley…. No, no.." He dug into the blankets, eyes glazed, tears running down his face.

"Lister!" Rimmer grabbed the distraught man by the shoulders, giving him a little shake. "You're dreaming, man, wake up!" 

Lister's eyes cleared, and he blinked a few times. "Arn? What…"

"You were having a nightmare." 

"They're gone… the twins."

"It's alright, they're safe. It was just a dream."

"They were right here… I, I, lost them!" Lister pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and buried his face in between. 

Rimmer wanted to do something, but he didn't know what. He'd never seen Lister like this. If he'd cried after his twins had left he'd done it behind closed doors, and with the radio turned up. Being around the two tiny kits must have opened a Pandora's box of painful memories. He wanted to wrap his arms around him and tell them it would be okay, but that would be too much, too familiar. Then again if there was anyone who could claim familiarity with David it would be him. Wouldn't it? It didn't have to mean anything. Just a friend comforting a friend.. nothing more. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Lister didn't seemed to notice. He moved his hand to the rounded slope of Lister's back. Patting it seemed silly. He remembered something his mother did once he had to have been like three or four. He'd gotten a particularly bad case of the flu and she'd stayed up with him all night. It was one of the only times he remembered her being at all affectionate. He started by rubbing Lister's back softly with his fingertips, using all his control to keep his hand from shaking. Then he began to scratch slow circles into the red fabric of his long johns. It made his fingertips tingle. Just when he was beginning to feel foolish for trying something like this he felt Lister relax under his hand, so he kept scratching. He tensed up and stopped when he felt the scouser leaning toward him, the next thing he knew Lister's head rested on his thigh. He sat there stiff, scared to move, until Lister reached back, grabbed his hand, and placed it on his back. So he scratched. Lister made a contented noise that made Rimmer smile to himself in the dark. He kept scratching well after he heard soft snores fill the little tent. 

It wasn't such a bad little tent, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you didn't think I was going to go there? 
> 
> Did you not read the tags regarding pairings? 
> 
> ;-)


	12. Chapter 12

Rimmer awoke alone. He stumbled, still in his pajamas, out into the bright morning light. There was a white wrought iron patio set in the middle of The Witch's front garden. From the look of the white lace tablecloth he knew it had to be Aziraphale's doing. Crowley was sprawled in one of the chairs drinking coffee.

"I can't have you feasting in my yard," The Witch was saying, "someone could see! They already don't trust me, me bein' a witch and all. If they see me out here feasting with a bunch of strangers they'll come and have my head on a pike. They're starving." She glanced down at a dish piled high with kippers, they did look really good, and since the Chungs took her last breeding pair of rats she hadn't had a good, protein rich meal in quite some time. "It's not right." She added lamely.

"My dear, you need to eat." Aziraphale argued.

"Yeah," Cat sat down, tucking a napkin in his collar, "I'm hungry, we can argue after breakfast."

"It's not right, I can't let them see me gorging myself."

"Then go inside and eat." Cat began heaping his plate with food.

"Well…" she looked the table over, her stomach aching with hunger pangs. "Maybe we could move this inside."

Crowley leaned back, crossing his arms. "That fine for everyone else, but in case you haven't noticed I'm not welcome in your home."

She blinked at him, confused. "I never said you weren't welcome."

"I don't spend my time peering through doorways for nothing. You're house is warded… against evil." 

"Evil? You?"

"I'm afraid so, my girl," Aziraphale said. "Even if it's been quite a while since he's actually done any temping he is still technically a demon."

"Technically? Angel, really?" Crowley was a tad offended. He had an image to keep, after all. "I am still one hundred percent a demon, just working freelance now."

"So demons are… ?"

"Please," Rimmer interrupted, "No more elaborate demonstrations. If not for her sake, then for mine. A demon, well in his case at least, is like an angel, but... different. You see there's heaven, and there's h-"

"Like silicone heaven?" She asked.

Crowley threw his arms up and laughed. "Seriously? She knows about silicone heaven but doesn't fucking know what a demon is?"

"Everybody knows about silicone heaven. Well, most witches and other educated cats."

"There's no such thing as silicone heaven." Rimmer insisted.

"Of course there is…"

"Then where would all the calculators go?" The angel, demon, and cat witch all said together.

"There is?" Rimmer asked Aziraphale.

"Well, personally speaking, I haven't been to heaven in millions of years, but I don't see what the difference is between your soul, and say Kryten's. You all know the difference between right and wrong so I would assume that heaven and hell would be a part of that."

"That's an awful lot of speculation for a celestial being. Three million years? Why stay away so long? Wouldn't they like check up or something. Be like 'oh, hey down there, done any smiting recently?'"

"Well, we're both sort of…" Aziraphale trailed off.

"On our own side, independent contractors if you may." Crowley answered for him.

"But you're still a demon?" Asked Rimmer.

"Yep."

"And demon's are?" Asked The Witch again.

"Demon's are like angels, who have," Cat held a fish up in the air and lowered it slowly making a cartoon whistling sound followed my a mimicked explosion. "then they're called evil and learn how to not dress like a total doof."

Crowley's jaw dropped at the explanation he didn't know whether to laugh or be offended. 

"I like my suit." Mumbled Aziraphale. 

"What's stopping you from coming in?" The Witch asked Crowley.

He got up and stalked over to the door. She followed. He stood waiting as she opened the door. "That." He pointed at a rune carved in the frame of the door.

"That?" She looked surprised. "That's to keep the flies out. I don't think it works that well though."

"Where did you learn that symbol?" Asked Aziraphale.

"It's in one of the ancient books. I inherited it from my grammy. She left me quite a library."

"A library?" Aziraphale lit up. Pushing his way into the house. 

Crowley turned dramatically on his heel. "Guess I'll just stay out here then."

"Oh sorry, dear." Aziraphale hurried back, wiped his hand across the rune, and it disappeared, leaving the wood of the door smooth.

The Witch stepped over Kryten who was giving her floor a much needed scrubbing. She hadn't known it needed it. It had always been a dingy gray, now it was beginning to show an almost red hue. Lister dozed in the chair he had fallen asleep in the night before, except this time he had bothered to put the kits back in their basket. He snorted awake when the Witch pushed past him and reached up on a high shelf to retrieve a book. She pulled it from the ancient cloth it was wrapped in. She opened it up. "See, she said, and pointed to a picture. "It's for keeping the flies from buzzin' around ya head." There on the ancient yellowed page was an inky sketch of Beelzebub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't noticed The Witch has a bit of a southern accent. I did this because Cat is supposed to sound American. That and I'm a country girl and that sort of things comes naturally to me.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes. I write on my phone and it's like 4am


	13. Chapter 13

"Where did you find such a book?" Aziraphale asked.

"It's a copy of the one found on the old home ship ages ago."

"There must have been a witch aboard Red Dwarf." Said Crowley, looking over Aziraphale's shoulder at the book.

"I bet it was that woman who ran the gift shop on B-deck, the one with the thing on her neck." Rimmer shuddered.

"Gladys?" Lister asked, "she was always such a sweetheart, I think I still owe her twelve dollar-pounds for a lighter."

"You paid twelve dollars for a lighter?" 

"It was one of those giant novelty ones. It was Chen's birthday."

As Aziraphale thumbed through the pages of the book a large rumbling could be heard. The Witch looked embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, my dear. I let myself get distracted so easily." He snapped his fingers and the table was inside. There was an "oof" and the table shook. He had miracled it right on top of the mechanoid who had still been in the middle of scrubbing the floor. A "Hey!" On the part of Cat could be heard from outside. He was mid stab with his fork on a rather fine piece of sausage and had almost stabbed himself in the leg when the table disappeared. Aziraphale blushed as Kryten awkwardly made his way out from under the table. "Well, then, sorry there Kryten." He turned to The Witch, "shall we?" He pulled out a chair for her. 

So they dined. The Witch didn't think she'd ever seen so much food in one place. She was determined to taste everything, liking most of it. The flavor of borderline starvation heightened her enjoyment of the flavors, but she found she couldn't eat nearly half of what she had put on her plate. She was stuffed, and stared at her plate feeling guilty that she was wasting so much food. She was offered coffee and made a face when she tried it. Cat laughed and poured most of it out and filled the cup to the brim with creme and sugar. She tasted it, grinned, and began to slurp it down. Crowley stopped her, putting a hand over the cup. "Oh, you are evil!" She groaned. 

"Have you ever had milk before?" 

"Well, yeah, I was a baby once wasn't I?"

"What's, the problem, tube dude?" Cat asked, "let the lady have her milk."

"This," he slowly took the cup away, "is different from the milk your mother gave you."

"I don't see the problem." Aziraphale said from behind a starch white napkin. 

"You're not supposed to give cats milk."

"I drink it all the time." Cat said, "and I'm fine."

"And I used to give it to Frankenstein all the time." Lister added.

"That's because you watched too many stupid cartoons. And you, my feline friend, have become accustomed to it over the years. If she drinks this entire cup of pure creme on top of this rich breakfast, especially after being half starved for so long, she is going to spend the rest of the evening casting all her spells from the outhouse."

She frowned and pushed the cup away.

A kit began to give a creaky wail, the other one decided this was a good idea and joined in. "Sounds like someone heard us talking about milk." Kryten went to prepare them some formula. 

 

The Elder Witch of the Swamp Who Chews the Grass and Scrapes the Trees and The Mamma Cat Who Made the Village of the Pumpkin Eaters met on the path not far from the Young Witch who Reads the Old Word's path. They fell into step together without greeting. 

The Mamma Cat was actually a year older than the Elder, but her round face and snubbed nose filled out her wrinkles in a way that made her appear years younger. She was a similar shape to the pumpkins she carried in two rope harnesses, though considerably less round than she was this time the year before. Her hair was salt and pepper with a few streaks of brown highlighting here and there. She wore the locks, but they were considerably shorter than the younger of her coven. They were swept to the side and the bottom half of her head was shorn short. 

The Elder was almost a foot taller than The Mamma, and much thinner. She had always been thin, but since the Chungs food "tax" started she was downright skeletal. Still, she held herself upright with a steely will and exhuded a strength that her spindly muscles didn't show. Her hair was not of a texture that took well to locking, but she made due with two long braids wrapped in fabric decorated in tiny shiny things.

 

"I hope the Kits have survived the night. I can't for the life of me think what she would be feeding them." The Mamma Cat said as they walked along together. "I got here as fast as I can. I hope they take my mixture, sometimes the little ones won't. "

"That's because it tastes awful. You'll do well to find them a willing mother as soon as possible. I've brought them some milk expressed from a new mother in my village, but she had 5 in her litter and can't take more. I had to give her a pound of oats for the effort." The Elder held up a skin filled to bursting. 

"You would have given her the sacred oats anyway. Let's just hope she eats them before some priest finds out and steals them for donuts of his own. Do you have any more?" She wanted to add 'because you look terrible" but she thought better of it. "One of these pumpkins is for you by the way, and if you're willing to make the journey I can spare a few more."

"If they're there when you get back."

"My village wouldn't stand for it."

"That's because a good third of them are your kits."

"Damn right!"

"Have you found anyone to take them?"

"One of my grandkits will be dropping soon, she only has one from what I can tell. If they make it. She's never had much luck."

The Elder was quiet now, she'd had similar luck. The Mother had made up for her absence in the gene pool, she thought, having had more children than The Elder could even number by now.

They rounded the corner and The (Young) Witch's house came into view. The tents were gone, but the smell of the strangers remained, along with the remains of a rather large campfire. A white wrought iron chair sat in the middle of the yard and a starched napkin clung to a nearby hedge. 

"What," The Elder asked picking the napkin from the hedge, "did she tell you about these strangers?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have taken from The Wyrd Sisters for the witch's coven. I don't know how long The Mother and The Elder will be in this. I just thought The Witch needed to be part of a proper Pratchett coven.


	14. Chapter 14

"Aww, c'mon Cat," Lister was saying, "or are you scared of a little bitty baby?" 

"I ain't scared of nuthin'!" Lister had been pestering him to hold one of the tiny kits. Cat had resisted, wanting nothing to do with the squalling poop factories, and had said so many times already. 

"Yes you are!" Lister teased. He held little Peter out to the Cat, one hand under his little pink chin and the other supporting his bottom. "O, you're scawred of wittle me?" Lister did a baby voice, "I'm gonna get ooo." 

"Look at him," Crowley laughed, greatly amused by The Cat's apparent discomfort, "he's quaking in his shiny little boots!"

"I'm not scared of a kit!" Insisted Cat, acutely aware of The Witch's eyes on him.

"Then take him, scaredy Cat!"

Cat huffed but held out his hands. 

"No, like this." Lister instructed him, placing the kit in his arms. 

Cat studied the tiny creature and gave him a sniff. The first wave he got was "NOT MINE!" and he had to resist the urge to punt the bundle across the room and leg it out of there. The next smell was that from the scent he picked up from the female that Rimmer held was that the pair had different fathers. He knew the fathers would probably not show any interest towards the orphans. Male cats showed little interest in their young until they were at least of an age to be weaned. With there being as many as six to a litter and the possibility of as many different fathers it was much less of a hassle to the mother this way. Even after they came of age it wasn't common for the males to hang around. The only female a male was beholden to was his mother, thus leading to a naturally matriarchal society. A female may inherit from her mother, but her brothers were usually left to fend for themselves. A boy's male role model was usually an uncle, and more than likely their mother's litter mate. 

Cat didn't have an uncle, not that he knew of, at least. His own father had taken on that role. He could barely remember his father trying to teach him once in one of the rare times he was lucid. Mostly he just had the priest and himself. The kit sneezed and he jumped, then smiled at the baby rubbed at it's little nose. 

The Witch smiled to herself as she watched the strange cat cuddle the baby. He was decidedly handsome, she knew that from the beginning. She worried at first if he was like his friends, having not propositioned her yet. Then again yesterday wasn't a day that anyone would want to spend in a tryst. He was interested, she could smell it as they sat there watching Kryten fill in the grave, but for some reason he hadn't acted on it. She wondered if it would have been the same had she been in her heat. She could feel a different kind of heat forming in her gut. He looked up at her sharply. Had she been putting off pheromones? They made eye contact across the table.

 

There was a rapping at the door that made everyone jump. The Witch knew that knock, it was The Elder's bony fist making that noise. She opened the door just a crack. Mamma Cat pushed the door open and strode inside. "Alright, where are the-" she stopped short. Of all the things she'd could imagine she'd find in the young Witch's house a table that took up most of the dwelling was not. It was fit for a king. The remaining food still steamed and the smell made her almost swoon. When she was told of "strangers" she thought of a handful of poor travelers stopped on a witch's doorstep looking for succor. Nothing like this. She counted six of them, and knee right away that only one of them was a cat, despite Aziraphale's glamour. The male cat cuddled up with a kit he was obviously no way related to was a slightly off sight, but that was just the beginning. "Cloister help me!" She said, grasping at her heart. 

The Witch glanced at Lister, then back to her coven sisters, and immediately pushed them both back outside.

"And what was that, girl?" Asked the Elder indignantly. "A feast? Did I just see a Cartel I there?"

"No, he's not a Cartel, he's not even a cat. Listen, a lot's happened since yesterday and I'm not a girl, I'm over thirty."

"Just a kit." 

"I'm not havin' this argument now. You gotta listen to me, they ain't just strangers. That cat in there, he's an abandoned."

The duo gasped. Questions on the edges of their tongues. 

"And that's just the start of it. They're… holy, some of 'em anyway." 

"Did that Cartel boy get you all nipped up, girl? You're talking crazy."

"I'm perfectly sober, Mamma. I want you to go over to that door and look in tell me if there's anyone in there that looks familiar. That's looks… holy, like maybe he's been frozen… in time."

The Mamma cat opened the door and popped her head in, scanning the room. The men looked back at her in surprise, but before anyone could speak, she slammed the door shut again. "I seen a bunch of not-cats. What's you're point?"

"Cloister is my point, living and breathing in my home. Changing diapers, eating food from a table that appeared out of thin air."

"Cloister? The one with all the shiny things on him? I guess he kinda looks like the old drawings, but he's too old. And well, that's just… it couldn't be."

"Could and is, and he brought two holy servants with him, one good one evil. Actually, I think they're a couple."

"Why would Cloister bring an evil servant?" The Elder asked.

"I don't know. You're the one always talking about balance and such. Maybe he needs both to keep centered. It doesn't matter, what matters is he is here."

"Let's assume that what you are saying is true. If that's Cloister then why come now? Where was he when we landed on this rock? Wasn't he supposed to be the one who led us to Fushal?" The Mamma Cat looked To The Elder in shock. She had never heard her speak such blasphemy before, even though what she said was nothing she hadn't thought herself.

"I'm beginning to think," The Witch looked back towards the door, "that he actually sent his servants to do that. You've heard of The Orange Priest?"

"The Orange Priest is a myth." The Elder waved her hand in dismissal.

"I don't think so, I think what he is is called an angel, and he's sitting inside, all cuddled up to The Bringer of the Nip. All of them sittin' pretty with Cloister himself." 

"If that were true, then why come now?" 

"I think he's come back to save us."

"From what?" 

"Starvation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I be waiting to post and make these chapters longer?


	15. Chapter 15

The Mamma tucked a kit into a fold in her clothing designed for that purpose. The one that The Young Witch had named Cloister had insisted that they call him Lister, or Dave. It didn't matter the label, she thought, it didn't make you a different person. At first she thought him just a rich stranger, out showing off his wealth. The things she'd seen done since then convinced her otherwise. First was the food, the likes of which she'd never seen. When they had finished it the leftovers disappeared before her eyes. It was enough to make her lightheaded. As a witch she had seen magic before, in a sense. The magic the cat witches used were mostly for things like predicting the sexes of kits or making potions and sex spells and other things of the like. Of course there were the mirrors. A good mirror was an essential part of their magic. There were other means of communication used by the general population, most of them electronic. This made them very easy to be listened in on. If a witch wanted to communicate with another of her kind it was as simple as a rune scrawled on the corner of said mirror and the right words uttered. This was highly convenient because if there was one thing the cats had an abundance of it was mirrors. A witch always kept hers covered when not in use. You never know who could be watching. The magic she had seen I the past twenty four hours was a different story. No runes, no words, just a wave of the hand and whoosh. 

The things she had learned were amazing too. The angel and the demon weren't exactly witches themselves, but they could read the old runes and explain what the ancient books meant by them. She now envied her sister of the coven for the wealth of books she had. Just a few days ago they might have been able to make only a few spells in them work, now they had done things they didn't think possible. It was marvelous, and a little bit frightening. They now had the power of the human magics on top of their own. 

The (Young) Witch was right, they were there to help them. They had put up a token protest at first, saying that they weren't there to meddle in the lives of the cat population. Aziraphale and Crowley could miracle up a banquet, but feeding millions of cats was a different story. Lister, who still felt a responsibility towards the felines had insisted that they should at least help, with The Cat by his side in the argument. They had an entire ship full of food that they couldn't even make a dent in themselves, why not just bring it down. So now there was a brand new shed hidden behind some well placed shrubs in The Witches back garden. It was stocked to the brim with can goods. The Mother had sent for some males from her home village to come with carts to distribute the food to the surrounding villages. It would stave off their hunger and if hidden well from tax collectors could keep them alive through the upcoming winter. 

The city of Bearth however was a different story. The Chungs ran the city and although they took taxes from the surrounding villages supposedly for the purpose of redistribution, what they handed out was just a token compared to what they took. The people there wouldn't make it unless someone did something, either through rebellion or divine intervention.

Now the one who insisted on being called Lister fussed over the second kit, giving instructions to The Mamma that she didn't need. He seemed reluctant to hand the baby over, cuddling it to his chest. He'd done the same with the first. "He won't sleep without his dummy, and he likes to be bounced, but Shelby doesn't, she-"

"It'll be fine. I've done this before. The way you fuss I'd have thought you birthed them yourself." 

Lister's mouth fell open. Rimmer, who had been covertly watching the exchange, was by his side in an instant. He put a hand on Lister's shoulder and leaned in. "They'll be fine, Listy. They need to be with other cats."

"I know that." He said angrily, but there was no fire behind it. He held up the kit eye level. "See ya later, Petey." He looked as if he was going to say something else, but instead handed the baby over to the witch. He turned away too quickly, almost slamming into Rimmer in the process. He and the hologram were almost face to face. It was then that Rimmer realized that his hand still rested on Lister's shoulder. They made brief eye contact and Rimmer took his hand away balling it into a tight fist at his side. It was all too personal, too public. Lister, whose first instinct was to burrow his face into a broad blue shoulder and cry out that it wasn't fair, instead said "'scuse me." And brushed past the hologram to go flop down into a lawn chair next to Crowley who wordlessly handed him a beer.

 

It would take them two days or more to get to Bearth. They had been awakened at dawn by Cat of all people. He was already dressed and ready to hit the road. He had been feeling a pull to the place, a need he couldn't explain. All of his companions seemed annoyed at his insistence at them getting up so early, but they grumbled at got their things together anyway. Now the sun was high and their pace was beginning to slow in the warmth of the autumn sun. 

Lister turned around to see that Rimmer had fallen behind the group. He wondered what could be wrong. It wasn't like the hologram could get tired. In fact, he had his suspicions that the party was keeping to a slower pace for his own benefit. He fell back to match pace with Rimmer.

They didn't say anything for quite some time, just walking along side by side with their respective thoughts. It was Rimmer who spoke first. "He wiggles more."

"What?" Lister looked confused.

"Aziraphale, now that he's a cat he wiggles more."

"Have you been checking him out!?" Lister's voice rose to a pitch that made Rimmer worry the others would hear.

"No!" He said just a little bit sharply, "don't be daft. He's always done it. It's just his thing I guess. But now that he's a cat he's constantly doing it. This morning at breakfast when Kryten said he'd made crepes he about vibrated out of his chair."

Lister chuckled. 

"Look at them all," Rimmer continued, "it's like watching Monty Python's Ministry of Silly walks. Save maybe for The Witch, she just sort of glides. But the rest of them?" He pointed to the angel, "he wiggles," then to the demon, "he slithers somehow, Cat saunters, and well, I can't even think of a name for what Kryten does, but it probably has the word "clunk" in there somewhere."

"Rimmer, you're terrible." 

"What? It's true?"

"You always do this."

Rimmer frowned, "Do what?"

"Make me want to laugh when I'm busy trying to feel like smeg."


	16. Chapter 16

When Lister woke up the next morning he decided that he did, in fact, feel like smeg. His head pounded and his throat felt like he had gargled steel wool. Fuck, he thought, why today of all days did he have to come down with something? They were headed to an unknown city to possibly confront a gaggle of assholes who were high on religious righteousness. It would be dangerous. He couldn't go up to one and be like "I, Cloister, have returned and… do you have any tissues?" Yeah, that would go down like a lead balloon. He went to Aziraphale and asked him if he could miracle it away. It worked with the headache and cleared his sinuses, but that dry feeling in his throat remained. He could feel it every time he breathed in, tickling, asking for a drink or something. By the time the afternoon rolled around, he had forgotten about it, chocking it up to a bad sinus from sleeping rough. 

It was near dusk when they approached the city. It was an odd dichotomy to see a city lit up with electric lights, but having no cars clogging the streets. Those who could afford it had antigrav vehicles, but they usually used them only for longer distances. If given the choice cats walked. How could someone see their clothes or smell how important they were if they were cooped up in a vehicle. In the country there were basic carts for hauling, but most of those were cat powered. For a race known for their laziness, when required, they could be quite strong. The street lights were just beginning turn on. They cast a red hue that masked some of the filth, but none of the smell. It was obvious that this once was a bustling metropolitan, but now it was dying. Once this street would have been filled with the smell of food stalls and the shouting of hockers. Now only a few stalls remained. Only a few cats stalked around, most not out in the open. The two cats in the party were on high alert, both on there verge of being overwhelmed by the odor of the place. Rimmer had shut his sense of smell completely off. Crowley held a handkerchief over his mouth and nose as soon as they entered the city. It worked until the wind shifted and he got a faceful of the overwhelming smell of death, mixed with the odor of a million and one cats marking their territory. He almost gagged.

"Breath through you mouth," Suggested Rimmer.

"I'm a snake, longshanks, I can smell with my tongue."

"You don't HAVE to breathe, do you?"

"It's essential if I wish to talk."

Lister could see the words "then don't" forming in Rimmer's head and decided to run some interception, "Got any of that stuff what's her name put on her nose in that movie with the sheep?"

Rimmer's eyebrows came together in confusion. "What movie with the sheep?"

"You know with the guy who eats people and that other bloke who wears skin to be a woman and the dog falls in the hole and…"

"What kind of movies do you watch?" Aziraphale looked disgusted.

"It's a good movie! Got Anthony Hopkins innit! Smeg, what's it called, you know," he pulled a voice, "it puts the lotion on it's skin."

Crowley, finally realizing what he was talking about, pinched the bridge of his nose, "The Silence of the Lambs" 

"You know that film!?" Aziraphale sounded shocked.

"Yeah!" Lister went on, ignoring the angel's disapproval. "When they do the autopsy she puts something on her nose for the smell. You need some of that."

"I'm not eating vapor rub!" Groaned Crowley from behind his blood red handkerchief.

Something silver appeared in front of Crowley's face. He snatched the gum from Cat's well manicured fingers. "That's actually a good idea." He said, shoving it into his mouth.

"All my ideas are good, right buds?" He gave his friends a look that said "back me up here guys, the lady is watching." 

"Yeah, sure, always," came the agreement from the three Dwarfers. It wasn't super enthusiastic, but they weren't going to let their boy down.

"I suppose," said Aziraphale, "that we should find a hotel, but from the looks of things I'm afraid the accommodation will be lacking."

"It'll get better once we get to the city center," The Witch said, "more rich fish around there. They like their comfort."

They worked their way slowly inward through a maze of narrow streets. They were all acutely aware of eyes on them, but they were not approached. As the sky grew darker the streets began to fill. Bearth wasn't a city that never slept, it functioned on a series of naps. At any one time in its 27 hour days there would always be people on the streets, usually peaking at around 3 or 4 am. The cats, in general, preferred the night and early hours of the morning. The Cartel, however, tended to work in the daylight. It was said that nothing good ever happened after noon.

The people milled about, almost zombie like. Most were stick thin and seemed like if a strong enough breeze came they would flutter away like a bunch of leaves. Most were dressed like they were going for a night out on the town, but their suits swallowed them whole. Scattered through the crowd there were people who wore the plain robes of those who followed the Chung. Their cheeks were only slightly less sunken than the general populous. Once they spotted one across the street that was positively chubby. She was giving a wide berth. Occasionally they passed those who The Witch referred to as "Cartels". Their black suits and dark glasses reminded Lister of something out of a Will Smith movie. One caught Crowley's attention who stared at him as openly as he could with covered eyes. He could have sworn the cat was trying to make him avert his eyes, but he just smirked and kept walking. 

A clowder of children soon became interested in their party and surrounded them asking questions. They seemed particularly interested in Kryten. They swarmed around and bombarded them with questions. Many asked for food. They had anticipated this and Lister and Aziraphale began handing out JMC standard issue protein ration bars. More kits came out of the alleys at the promise of food and soon the two cats and a reluctant Rimmer joined in on emptying their packs of rations. 

"Hey, Cartel, got any nip? One of the older boys asked Crowley.

"Not for you." He answered.

"Leave him alone, now scat!" A small girl chased the big boy away. She was tiny, but apparently pretty fierce by the way the other kit had reacted to her. She was patched black and white, her curls were meticulously separated by color. She was adorable and Crowley could tell that she knew it too. She frowned, putting on a sad face. "My sister is hurt," she said, "can you help? Please." Her plea was a well practiced whine. Crowley smirked. He knew the kind of game she was playing, but decided to play along. Maybe her and her little friends were going to rob him. That would be cute. So he followed.

Kryten, not being able to see through her ruse, followed as well out of genuine concern. 

Crowley's amusement faded as soon as he rounded the corner to the alleyway. There were no kits, just trash, and an overwhelming sense of danger. He was cursing his own stupidity when something came crashing down on his head. His vision went white then faded to black. 

With a grab of wires from a practiced hand Kryten joined them. They were carted off together before the rest of their party even knew they were gone.


	17. Chapter 17

The children disappeared almost as quickly as they appeared. Aziraphale was aglow with the joy of feeding hungry children. "Oh, Crowley, weren't they-" his smile faltered. "Crowley?"

"Guys…" Lister looked around, "where's Kryten? Oi! Krytes!" He called out. No answer. They looked frantically, ending up in the alley. 

"Can't you… you know smell them out?" Rimmer asked.

"I'm a cat, not a Labrador." Cat still sniffed the air and looked worried.

"They've used scent blockers, and it's not like they put down any markers." The Witch said. 

"You think they were taken then?" Lister watched Aziraphale twist the blood red handkerchief they had found.

"Crowley wouldn't just leave." The angel closed his eyes, searching. "He's not conscious wherever he is. Something bad has happened here. He must have been attacked." Tears were forming in his eyes as he gripped the cloth in his hand.

"How can that happen, I thought you were immortal and all that.". Said Rimmer, "Smeg, man, even I can't get knocked out." 

"Our vessels are human, and if he gets himself discorporated I don't think hell will be giving him a new one. Oh, I do hope he will be alright."

The Witch glanced back towards the street to see two cats in robes studying a wrapper to one of the ration bars they had handed out to the children. They didn't look happy. "Maybe we ought to get off the street. Let's get some rooms, then we can start searching for your husband and your mech."

"By all means, my dear lady, lead the way." Aziraphale put on a brave face but still clenched the cloth like he thought if he wrung it hard enough Crowley would come dripping out of it.

 

Crowley didn't open his eyes immediately when he came to. A voice had woken him up. A female voice.

"They can't do that!" Screamed the voice, "if they take the breeders there won't be any rats for spring!" A pause, she was on the phone with someone. "Making them illegal within the city is the same thing. We know where they will end up, right I those bastards gullets…. Redistribution my ass! You know better than that…. Fine, whatever, I'd like to see them try it. My babies ain't gonna starve to feed some fat cats holed up in a church somewhere."

Oooo, he could have liked this one, if it wasn't for the pounding of the concussion his vessel was about to vomit from. Apparently they hadn't bothered to tie him up, his hands were free. He reached up to cradle his aching head. To his surprise his glasses were still on, only half hanging off his face. He pushed them back up on his nose and, with a fingertip to each temple, cured his concussion. 

"He's movin' Boss."

Crowley rolled over into his side and squinted toward the sound of the new voice. It was deeper and matched well with the large male that came into focus. The same one who had been staring him down on the street. His suit was black on black and shone like an oil slick. His skin was almost as dark and his bald head was just as shiny. His biceps were putting up a good fight against the fabric of his sleeves, just barely losing. He had the potential to be quite an intimidating sight, to other people. 

Slowly Crowley got to his feet, still cradling his head as if he were still in pain. He scanned the room, looking for a quick escape. He cursed to himself when he saw a deactivated Kryten slumped against the wall in the corner. That would slow things down. He should just miracle them back with their friends, or to the ship. But what if he and Kryten weren't the only ones captured? Who were these people? They seemed to not like the Chungs very much, so they had that going for them. 

In the far corner of the large room he found the source of the voice. This was an office, of sorts, he discovered. There was a large desk strewn with papers and set up with a large monitor. It was a very ornate piece of furniture, almost gaudy without tipping over into being ugly. He wouldn't mind having one like it of his own. The desk, however, was not occupied. Beside it was a nest of sorts. It was built like a round bed with large fluffy sides. In it, laying on her side with an earpiece in an ear and a screen in her hand, was The Boss. Most cats have titles that can go on for days, and without their scent as a guide things can get quite confusing, but when someone mentioned The Boss there was no doubt of who they spoke. She was it. The Boss. Hard stop. Not only did she run the Cartel of Bearth and the surrounding towns, but The Bosses the cities of N'eeaow and Steinhome both reported to her as well. 

Surrounding The Boss and nursing from her teats was her litter, five or maybe six of them. If they were human Crowley would have guessed them at about six months, but aside from a brief interaction a few days before, he'd never been around many baby cats. She sat up letting the little ones drop into the padding of the bed. He realized when she stretched, bottom in the air, that she was most definitely completely and utterly nude, except for a pair of large red framed sunglasses. Her skin was almost as dark as her companions in some places, but her breasts were tinged in a rusty shade of red that extended down her mound and onto her thighs. Her afro was the same rusty shade and it bounced as she walked toward him, almost, but not quite as wide as her shoulders. She reached out her hand and an attendant that Crowley hadn't even noticed enter the room handed her a robe. She didn't put it on.

It was an intimidation tactic, Crowley realized, and it would have worked too, on anyone else. Still, he couldn't help but admire her aesthetic. He wondered what she would look like as an oil painting, maybe stretched out on red silk, an apple in her hand, as naked as Eve when she took that first bite. He took a step forward, to meet her in the middle of the room. Or at least he tried. He was stopped rather abruptly by a shock of electricity. A forcefield, he should have known. 

"He ain't too bright, is he?" The large bald cat laughed. 

Crowley ignored him. So did she.

"I've been on the phone for the last six hours calling every other boss I know, even down to the most podunk little parrish, trying to find out what syndicate you work for and guess what I've found?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Nothing, absolutely,positively, zilch. No one will claim you. That makes me think that maybe you ain't really Cartel at all. That maybe you been sent here, a spy," She came closer, inches away from the forcefield. She narrowed her eyes. "Who do you belong to?"

"A cute blond. You should see him. Got wingspan for days." 

She frowned at her associate, "how hard did you hit him?"

The answer to this was actually "harder than I thought. I was beginning to get worried that he wouldn't wake up." What he really said was "Not that hard, Boss, just a little knock."

"You really shouldn't go around hitting people on the head," Crowley rubbed at the spot, his hand came away covered in flakes of dried blood. It had ran down the side of his head and coated his ear as he had lain there unconscious on his side. "You could kill somebody like that, the hu- the brain is a sensitive organ. Concussions are cumulative, you know."

"So he's not knocked dumb, just a smartass. Who sent you here, smartass? You're too skinny to be a Chung. What I think is that you, and whoever you work for, are the ones who busted into the greenhouse last month, trying to get in on the nip trade. Trying to pose as one of us. That may have worked in N'eeaow or one of the smaller towns, but not here, not in my city."

"From what I understand the Chungs run this city, not you. They've got you by the tail, don't they? Taking all they can get. Tell me, does all that catnip fill your bellies? Do they take it as tax payments? Or are you struggling just like everyone else? He looks well fed, your babies seem happy. What about the rest of the gang? They starting to feel it? Starting to get a little restless, starting to think that maybe The Boss Lady doesn't have it as together as they might think?"

Her face turned from amused annoyance to a mask of stoic emotionlessness. The demon could feel the hate radiated off of her. He was just glad it wasn't directed at him, yet. She wrapped the black silk robe around her, and strolled back toward the bed. She ran her finger across the backs and bellies of her sleeping kits, stopping for a moment to look them over. She them made her way slowly over to the desk. Instead of sitting down behind it she reached over and tapped a panel on the desk. The forcefield shimmered as it disappeared.

Crowley was disappointed. He was looking forward to the drama of strolling through the thing unharmed. He glanced over at the prone mechanoid and wondered if he could grab him and miracle them both out of there before The Associate fired whatever weapon he was surely pointing at him now. Maybe, but he wanted to ride this out, see where it went.

She was coming back over, stopping right in front of him. With a single motion that was so fast it surprised even him she ripped the glasses off his face. Instinctually he closed his eyes tight as he felt the direct light. "You haven't earned these!" She had spat as she did it. And began a rant about loyalty and respect and other things apparently important to the leader of what appeared to be a very large drug ring. One that he was beginning to be pretty sure he had inadvertently started.

The ark to Fushal was a dismal place. Crowley hated it. Too small, too, cramped, and waaaay too many fucking cats. He hadn't even wanted to be there. Well that's what he had told himself. He couldn't very well let his angel plummet through space on the rubber band spacecraft without him being there in case something went pear shaped. Crowley found out pretty quick that the religious nut jobs that ran the ship would drive him to strangle someone, even himself, just to not have to hear them drone on about Cloister this and Frankenstein that. It was all so laughably absurd, but, then again what else was there to do? He did manage to make a friend, well sort of. He was a member of the maintenance crew, quite skilled actually. They had met by chance in a corridor after Crowley caught him going off on a panel with a spanner out of sheer frustration. It was a short acquaintance, and when he was about to depart to their new home Crowley had given him some seeds, mostly foodstuffs. One the last items he gave him was a large catnip plant. It was just a personal gift, an afterthought really. A simple reminder of a very fun night, and if the guy got some fun out of it that was a bonus. He didn't like to think about how his friend had offered him the dented up spanner. They traded even Stevens and his friend looked upon his new home for the first time wearing a pair of stylish dark shaded.

Now Crowley stood there letting her rant, his eyes squeezed shut behind the open palm of his hand. He rubbed at his temples with his thumb and middle finger. He noticed more dried blood and began attempting to clean it out of his ear and hair as she paced and talked. Finally she wore herself down and he could tell that she had stilled herself. He reached into his jacket and pulled another pair out of the pocket dimension he kept there. He placed them on his face and crossed his arms. "Are you quite finished?" 

She looked sharply at The Associate. "I thought you searched him, you great lummox! That could have been a knife!"

"I did, I swear I did. I shook that jacket out myself, checked the seams and everything. Even took his boots off."

"Don't blame him, boss lady, I'm sure he did a thorough job. I can be a little tricky like that, you see." He scratched the side of his head as he talked. "I-"

She grabbed him by the head, as close as she was he wondered if she was going to try to kiss him, but instead she turned his head, studying a place by his ear. His tattoo, if you wanted to call it that. She tilted his head and stuck out her tongue and licked him, from his jaw all the way up to his sideburn. Crowley stifled a gag as she turned and spat red on the floor, then came in close to study her work, taking off her glasses for a better view. Her eyes widened as she observed the marking. 

The mark of The Bringer was only known to a few high ups in the Cartel, and although some had snake tattoos this one was strictly forbidden. She let go of his face like it was on fire and backed away, all the way to her desk. She reached over without looking and pressed the panel.

"Hi, beautiful," came a smooth voice from the computer, "what a pleasant surprise. How are the-"

"Get up here," she snapped, "NOW!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine The Associate to be sort of like a Cat Terry Cruz. Don't know why, just do. 
> 
> I'm beginning to think that the hardest part of writing this is determining what Aziraphale and Crowley's limits are physically and magically. 
> 
>  
> 
> If you've made it this far I love you and hope I can keep you coming back for more.


	18. Chapter 18

"Now" actually took about 10 excruciatingly awkward minutes. Crowley tapped his foot as he waited and wondered if he would be getting back his watch anytime soon. Finally a tall thin cat came bursting into the room. He wore a long white lab coat and a pair of thick framed glasses. His lenses, however, were not dark. Crowley wasn't sure they even had lenses at all. His skin and hair was the same black and white pattern as the girl who had baited him. The demon thought immediately that this must be her father, it at least a very close relative. His black and white hair was combed upward and his black patches were beginning to be sprinkled with the additional white of age.

His eyes went immediately to Kryten. "Oh, thank Frank, would you look at that! It's a series 4000, and in such great shape too! I wonder if he will still function?"

"He was perfectly fine this morning until her goons got their paws on him…"

The Scientist looked back and forth between The Boss and the stranger. A stranger who looked remarkably similar to a drawing he had seen in an old book once. He made a wide circle around Crowley stopping by the female. She whispered something to him. "It can't be real," he heard him whisper back.

"You know, there's a million things I could be doing right now. A shower would be nice, and a nap, and aren't I supposed to get a phone call? My husband is probably losing his mind about now. Not to mention my friend here needs to be.. I don't know, whatever needs done to get him back to his annoyingly neurotic self."

"You're pretty mouthy for someone who has a gun to his back." The Associate poked him with the thing to show he was serious.

The Scientist came closer, his eyes glued to the side of his head. "Have you…" he licked his lips, "have you a name, stranger?"

Well this was different, thought Crowley. Cats don't use names. He'd only ever told one cat, save from the one on Red Dwarf, his name. Shit, they couldn't remember him, could they? He weighed his options. They would need allies after all. He smiled, his fangs retracted along with any all pretense he still held of being a cat, "Anthony J Crowley, at your service. And this," he snapped his fingers and the mechanoid sat up straight, alive, though not very alert, "is Kryten."

 

 

The hotel wasn't bad, by cat standards. The Witch had negotiated them three room side by side that Aziraphale had immediately turned into a suite. The beds were large round nests of full of plush blankets and pillows. The angel thought they looked quite cozy, but he was in no mood for sleeping. They had been followed almost their entire day there and he had laid down miracle after miracle to keep their pursuers off track.

The Cat did not have any problem with the idea of sleep. He was way past the need for a nap. It crossed his mind to just fall into bed fully clothed, but that wasn't his style. He dug around in his pack until he found his second best set of purple silk pajamas. He didn't have his nightly face mask, but he'd make due. He was wearing only the silk purple pants when The Witch came through the recently constructed door between the rooms. She had the door shut already when she noticed him standing there, half naked, and smiling at her. 

The Witch could feel her face growing hot, she could smell his curiosity. She was no virgin, but she tended to avoid the advances of the males of her village. She had been chided more than once by The Mamma for thwarting her heat. It wasn't that she didn't like males, and if you asked her why she had turned the way the advanced of so many she would say it was for "personal reasons". Being a witch did help with the questions. 

Cat, on the other hand, was a virgin, although not by choice. Now that he found this beautiful creature standing just a few feet away he was painfully reminded about it. He could sense her interest, as well as her hesitation. There was also the custom that once you've had sex with someone your job was done and you would part ways. They couldn't just do that, not now. He had a mission to accomplish here. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do exactly, but he felt a pull nonetheless. And he didn't want to part ways with her, not yet. She was too interesting, and strange, and beautiful, and saying something. "What?"

"I said nice pajamas, wish I had thought to bring some of my own."

"I know! They make my ass look great! See?" He turned to show her.

The Witch laughed and shook her head, not in disagreement, but amusement. Cat couldn't help but watch the shiny things dance I her hair as she moved. "Here," he held out the pajama shirt. "It'll be too big, but you can wear it."

"Thanks…" she took the top and disappeared into the bathroom. The Cat was already laid out on the bed when she emerged wearing the shirt. When Cat saw her legs he was seriously considering throwing all caution to the wind and pouncing. He was surprised when instead of heading to the other bed across the room she climbed over the edge of his own and lay down perpendicular to him with her head resting on his stomach. He could feel the tension in him break from the simple contact of another cat. He reached down and buried a hand in her hair and they drifted off with one of her locs wrapped around his fingers.

 

"Ugh!" Lister took off his jacket and flopped down on the bed. "It's too bleedin' hot in here. What's with this place, it's like a sauna!" He hadn't stopped at his jacket and was now hopping around trying to remove a boot.

"What are you blathering on about? It's not that bad. Maybe if you didn't drape yourself in leather like some sort of S&M George Costanza, you wouldn't be so hot. Here, drink some water." Rimmer shoved a bottle in Lister's hand, his fingers brushed against Lister's. He immediately lifted his hand and pressed it to Lister's forehead. "My God, man, you're burning up."

"I hadn't been feelin' me best."

"When were you going to tell somebody?"

"I don't want to be a worry, I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you're on fire. Drink that and lay down, I'm getting Aziraphale."

"Don't, he's worried enough already."

"But he can cure you."

"He already tried that."

"What! When?"

"This morning, I had a headache. I'll be fine." Lister lay down and began to shimmy out of his leather pants. He got stuck having forgotten one boot, became frustrated, then winded, then finally gave up. 

Rimmer rolled his eyes and picked up Lister's leg and removed the boot and stripped away the rest of the leather. Lister sighed a thank you.

Aziraphale walked I the room to see Rimmer standing over the prone man holding his pants. "Oh! I'm sorry, I'll just…" he went to turn away.

Rimmer quicky threw the pants to the side. "Wait… it's not… Lister's got a fever."

"I'm alright. I just need a rest." Lister waved him away.

"Oh, my dear boy! Why didn't you say." He placed a hand on Lister's head and winced at the heat that radiated off of him. 

Rimmer groaned at his reaction.

Once again Aziraphale laid hands on Lister. His fever broke, and he was soon in a restful sleep. Both had their doubts on the long term effects of the healing, but neither wanted to voice their concerns. 

"You should probably get some rest too, Arnold."

Rimmer looked over at the sleeping man. "I'd better not, besides it's not like I really need it."

"I keep forgetting that you aren't human. Is it true you can't be knocked unconscious? Has someone tried?"

Rimmer suppressed his inner smartass and refrained from commenting about his superiority to a certain missing demon in that way. "Almost as soon as I got this body, and many times after that as well. Mostly as my time as Ace."

"Ace?"

"Ace Rimmer," his voice deepened and his expression changed as he slipped I the character like it was an old shoe. "Spacecorp test pilot, dimension jumper, adventurer, debonair playboy, and all around great guy." He flipped hair that wasn't there. "Gave it up, wasn't me." He had gone back to his normal state. 

Aziraphale was amazed at the transition. "I had heard about another, living Rimmer, but the details were murky." 

Rimmer didn't really want to answer questions about other hims, but seeing the angel sitting there still twisting the red handkerchief made his heart ache for him. "That was me, and well, also not me. I was resurrected while I was off being Ace. When I came back and shoved the title down the little weasel's throat I ended up with his memories too."

"I must say, I'm a bit confused."

Rimmer took a deep breath and began "Okay, so…" He went on to tell of the original Ace, their different lives and alternative dimensions. He was surprised to find out the angels ignorance about alternative realities. Aside from making pocket dimensions within his own, the angel had little experience with such things. 

"Amazing!" Aziraphale said. "To meet not only one, but two other versions of yourself."

Rimmer just looked at him.

"You've met more!?"

"It seems to be a common theme around here. Hardly ever meet anybody new, just us in different costumes. Old us, good us, evil… girls. It's bloody weird if you ask me. Though Listy pregnant was a sight."

"Oh! The girl Lister was pregnant?"

"No, that Lister, over there snoring like a bear in a coma. Had a C-section and everything, Kryten did it. I couldn't touch anything at the time."

"But how? Who was the… father? Mother? If I didn't have the ability to tell if you were lying I wouldn't believe it."

"The girl Lister was the father. I really don't understand it myself."

"Where is the baby? Is that the one that was abandoned… you know, him?"

"No, Listy had twins." 

More explanations, more questions. They talked for hours. Aziraphale pausing occasionally to search his mind for some sign of Crowley's waking, then Rimmer distracting him again with another story. The angel did admit Rimmer could be quite entertaining when he wanted to be, and did some very amusing impressions of his crew mates. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to laugh, not with Crowley and Kryten missing. 

In the early hours of the morning the angel checked again and thank someone he was awake and alive somewhere not too far away. He was just forming a plan for a rescue when a large explosion rocked the city of Bearth. He looked out the window to see the resulting fire and saw the streets filled with cats. Was it a riot, or maybe a revolution?


	19. Chapter 19

"Now that he's awake maybe we can find them."

"Are you mad! It's chaos out there. You'll get yourself killed, or lost, or both." Rimmer looked down out the five story window and hoped that they were up high enough to not be affected. They had heard loud voices and running in the halls. The voices confirmed that it was, in fact, a riot. A food riot. 

"Don't be silly, I will just find them using Crowley as magnetic north, rescue then, then head back here. It'll be a snap."

"I think goalposts head is right." Cat agreed, "did I just really say that? I must be losing my mind!"

"No, you're right. The city is burning, cats are looting, and no telling what else. It would be best to just wait it out." Agreed The Witch.

"And wait for Crowley to be discorporated? No, I won't sit around twiddling my thumbs while he is in danger. Crowley gone been through worse to save me."

"We don't even know who took them. They don't have their watches so Holly can't pinpoint them, and even if you can whose to say they're not buried in a cell somewhere surrounded by guards. Not to mention Lister is ill." Rimmer's worry had increased tenfold when the ear shattering explosion had barely made the man twitch.

"I've been thinking about that. I do believe that Crowley and Kryten must have been kidnapped by the local clergy. They must have become upset at our handing out food without their approval. They managed to split them from the group while the rest of us are busy and take them. It is their intentions to get us all, thus is the reason we were being followed. I simply have to find out the location of their holding facilities and zero in on Crowley. It will be a snap."

"You make it sound like you plan on doing all this alone." Commented The Witch, "you would get turned around before you get two blocks away. Not to mention you stick out like a sore thumb. You'd end up down to your drawers layin' bleeding in an alley somewhere."

There was no disuadeding the angel, he had his heart set on going, but Lister wasn't in any shape to go and Rimmer wasn't about to leave him. The Witch found herself becoming a guide once more, but this time it was to an angel who had apparently gone mad with worry and a reluctant male who would have told you he was only there for the female. He also would have told you that his chances were better with the angel than a cowardly hologram and a sick monkey. What he wouldn't say, because he didn't realize it himself, was that he was looking for someone too. Someone or something that he didn't have a name for was pulling at him, dragging him hissing and clawing toward an end, the end of what he didn't know.

As soon as they were out the door Rimmer cursed himself for letting them go. The angel had checked Lister again before he went, but there was little he could do. Now all Rimmer could do was try his best to keep Lister's fever down and pray for the best. A lot of good prayer would do, he thought, divine intervention just walked out the door.

They held hands, making a chain to keep together in the chaos that surrounded them. The city guard, who wore on their grey uniforms the symbol of the Royal Order of the Chung, were everywhere. It was like a war zone, the guards against the looters. Every so often they would have to dodge a group of guards carrying away a writhing looter, or duck as a chunk of brick flew dangerously close to their heads. Off in the distance they heard the exchange of firearms. 

With all the pandemonium that surrounded them they hadn't noticed that they were being followed. As they three made their way towards Crowley's magnetic north, the one robed figure that had been waiting outside the hotel had turned to three, then four, then more. They closed in slowly, and before they knew it they were surrounded by a wall of grey, some robes, some guards, all Chungs.

Aziraphale figured that if they had Crowley too then they would be taking him to the same place, or at least that's what he had hoped. The annoyance of the arrest began to turn I fear as they were taken farther away from their goal. The fear turned to a lead weight as heavy as the shackles he wore and had settled into the pit of his stomach as they approached a temple. The transport landed on the roof of a temple. The building itself was surrounded by a mass of starving cats, all trying to claw their way in to get to the food that they knew was inside. The guard held them at bay, using the dead bodies of those who broke through as a warning. 

 

The fear increased as they were led through an elaboratly decorated hall into the temple proper. It wasn't the temple itself that caused the fear, although the angel was beginning to think that Crowley would not only be able to walk on their floor, but also roll around on it like Madonna in a wedding dress, but it was the presence he felt inside. A presence he hadn't felt in over three million years. A horseman, and he knew which one. 

A large blob of a cat approached, he floated on an anti grav platform and was surrounded by four young servants, but he wasn't even an afterthought compared to the almost skeletal figure who strolled beside.

Cat let out a low rumble deep and angry from his chest as they approached. Aziraphale spoke, barely above a whisper, but the two cats with him could hear….

"And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand. And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine."

"What?" The Witch didn't understand the imagery, but she knew it didn't sound good.

"I don't know what he calls himself now, but he is a horseperson; Famine."

"He doesn't look like a horse to me." Cat whispered back.

"He is neither horse or person. He is… an entity... created to bring about the Apocalypse, but since that never happened I suspect that he has been wandering about the universe causing trouble."

If Crowley had made Cat uncomfortable then being around this guy was absolutely excruciating. A panic began to rise in him as the procession worked its way toward them. 

It was The Grand Chungus who spoke first. "So this is what you got me out of bed for? Two fish and a witch? Seems hardly worth my effort."

"This is no fish, Grand One, and definitely no cat." Famine stalked closer, stopping just beyond slapping distance of the angel. "Are you, Aziraphale?"

"I demand to see my husband at once! I know you have him. How dare you go around kidnapping innocent people, and in the name of God!"

"Your what!? Your husband!" Famine laughed, "Do you mean that demon? You do, don't you? I've heard rumors, but to hear it straight out of the horse's mouth. You don't know how many betting pools you just settled. And no, I don't have your demon, yet. I've got me a nice little angel fish for bait."

"Well in that case we'll just be going." Aziraphale's fingers snapped under the heavy shackles. Nothing happened.

"You didn't think I'd be fool enough to keep a prize like you improperly restrained did you." Famine waved his hand and the steel of the manacles turned golden, etched into the gold were runes older than time itself. "I can't have you running off, I've been waiting three million years for this, and now there will be no Antichrist child to save you this time. I wonder who I will let have you, the minions of hell or your holy brethren?"

It was at this point that Cat broke free. The old school manacles that Famine had insisted they wear weren't meant for someone so flexible, especially when they had the fire of a thousand Suns exploding in their head screaming "kill it, kill it, KILL IT" Cat flung himself at the horseman flailing and hissing. He managed to knock him over and leave four deep scratches across his face and neck before the guards pulled him off. For his efforts he received a sharp blow to the side of his head and a knee in his spine. He lay on the floor writhing and screeching trying to get back to his task. 

The horseman got up, shooing away any help from guards and licked black blood from his upper lip. "Sssssst! Bad kitty!" He spat at the cat. "You will pay for that. Won't he, Grand One?"

"Oh, yes, excellent idea." 

 

 

When Kryten came back online he was in a strange room. He had barely the time to hear his name being spoken by the demon when the strange room filled with flying glass and smoke. An explosion. His auditory sensors were offline for a split second only to come back to hear the screaming of several kits. "You alright? Can you walk?" Crowley was screaming at him. 

"I believe so, sir, where are we?"

"Somewhere we shouldn't be… come on." He hauled the mechanoid up to his feet and scanned the room. The window had been blown out, that was obvious. He'd barely had time to shield the litter from the blast. His original plan was to leg it out of there with Kryten but when he saw the boss and the scientist scrambling over to the nest of kits he couldn't find it in himself not to help. He almost tripped over the nursemaid who had handed The Boss her robe. He hadn't realized she was still in the room. Stealthy little thing, or at least she was. A large chunk of glass jutted out from her neck. It was obvious that she had bled out very quickly. There was nothing he could do. The Associate lay groaning in the corner. The Boss and The Scientist were covered by thousands of tiny cuts it was only then that he noticed that he was too. The couple were almost too the nest when he stopped them with a wave of power. They both yelped at the sudden push. "Wait" he called, barely audible over the screaming kits. "You're covered in glass." He waved a hand and the three of them were clean from cuts and debris. They stood stunned for a moment at the display of power. "Go on, then, get your babies."

The demon stood debating on whether or not to heal The Associate, the guy did knock him silly, kidnap him, and then insult his intelligence. Then again, he probably knew where his watch was. The large cat sat up blinking after the healing, still not sure what happened. "Boss… what.."

"They've bombed the front, it's completely demolished, we've got to get underground before they close the doors!"

That's how Crowley ended up taking stairs two and three at a time while carrying a screaming kit. They made it. He made sure of that. 

Crowley was expecting a bunker, and from the looks of the door you would think that's what he got. He heard of cities having an underground before, but here they seemed to take it literally. What had begun as a series of tunnels used mainly for the hydroponic systems used to grow the catnip had evolved into a second City under the surface of the first. The Chungs hadn't taken well to the scientific community. Their beloved Cloister would provide all that they needed, no need to try to see how. Blind Faith, and enjoyment of the bounty that Fushal had to offer was their top priority. The idea of going back to space for any reason was considered sacrilege. Why go back when they had found their home? They didn't consider the fact that a majority of their city was built from space scrap, and only a portion of that was taken from the Gelf garbage pods that occasionally came crashing down on the mostly unmarred surface of the planet. Ask any cat pilot and he would tell you cats were a species of space, born in space, evolved in space, and meant to go back. They weren't meant to just lay around getting up only long enough to eat before going back for seconds. Sure, they loved their home, but there was a whole universe out there, waiting to be melted and reformed into a smart looking pair of boots or maybe an armoire to keep them in.

Lain out before him now was rows upon rows of plants only a portion of them catnip. He whistled.

"It is quite impressive," agreed Kryten, "what I would give for just a portion of this on the Dwarf. It's too bad that most of these are still too small to eat."

The Scientist nodded his agreement. They were strolling the aisles taking sort of tour. The Boss, upon making sure her children were safe, had went off to work almost immediately. "We've only extended the foodstuffs since the new taxes started being implemented. Still, we need protein, and the rats we have must be preserved for future whelping." 

"Maybe I could…" Crowley stopped short. "Zira?" He searched for the angels power, his own magnetic north. 

"Is there something wrong, sir?" 

Crowley reached out sideways, his knees growing weak. "I… can't feel him, his power. At all!" He took off running to the door they came in. "I have to find him."

"They're locked," said The Associate, who was perched on a stool reading a paperback with two cats in a dramatic embrace on the cover. "Twenty four hour lockdown after an attack."

"But I have to get up there!"

"Your blond? Sorry, we've all got people up there."

"I could get to him if I knew where he was…. My watch, we can call him or Holly. Where is it?"

The Associate pointed straight up.

"Smeg! Smeg! Smeg! Smeg!" Crowley jumped in a circle as he cursed at the concrete ceiling. He had to do something. A plan. He needed a plan. "Kryten, you don't happen to have yourself an internal communication device than can like connect to the ship, do you?"

"Why, no sir… and I'm not precisely sure why not. It would be extremely helpful in a situation such as this."

"Ya think?"

"Okay… then I'll just go up and find them. Can't be too hard."

"If Aziraphale is… what I mean to say is if you can't feel him, then maybe his watch is… offline."

The Scientist came jogging up beside them. "The Boss just told me…" he puffed, "said that a reliable source told her…"

"Spit it out already!"

"An arrest has been made. It sounds like your… Orange Priest. He was with two other cats. One fish claiming to be an abandoned and a witch."

"Are they alive?"

"Executions for treason and inciting a riot set for tomorrow at sunset."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to finish this portion of the saga in the next chapter, so it may be a long one. 
> 
> Is there a chapter limit on here?


	20. Chapter 20

They were scrolling through report after report. Some were newscasts others were private reports from Cartel agents and associated cats. Most of the news was just reports of looting, fires, and assurances that the powers that be had everything under control. "Wait! Go back!" Crowley reached across Kryten who was working the console. 

"Priests, Mr Crowley? I thought we were looking for our…"

"Famine."

"Pardon?"

"That," Crowley jabbed a finger at the screen, "is Famine. He must have Aziraphale and blocked his powers somehow."

The Scientist, who was standing over Kryten's other shoulder recognized the one Crowley had pointed out. "He's known as The Assistant. He just showed up one day and started calling the shots. Even our operatives within the church don't know where he came from, but he has The Chungus' ear, and some say he has more than that."

"I'd bet my right wing that he's the one who started this ridiculous tax, just so he can watch your people starve. It's his modus operandi."

"Wings?" The Scientist stepped back to stare at Crowley's back. He was still caught up on the whole "Bringer" thing, not to mention the miracles he'd seen performed.

"Is that really what you took from all that? I thought you were supposed to be smart or something. Focus! Not only is that bastard starving your people he's got our friends."

"Actually, sir, I haven't seen anything yet that indicates that Mr Lister and Mr Rimmer have been captured. Unfortunately we have no way of contacting them without our watches."

"If they're alive, do you have any idea where they could be?" Asked the Scientist.

"If they're alive!?" Squealed the mechanoid. 

"They're alive. One of 'em at least. Calm down he didn't mean it. They're probably holed up in a hotel somewhere." If they're okay, Crowley wanted to add.

"Maybe there is a way we can get in touch with them, do your friends have their mirrors?" 

Kryten turned slowly in his chair to face The Scientist and burst out in a fit of laughter. The demon and the cat watched in horror as the mechanoid guffawed and slapped his knee. He stopped suddenly, wiping tears from his eyes that weren't there. "I'm so sorry sirs, I believe I've just had a fit of stress induced hysteria. I think it's passed."

"I should hope." Grumbled the demon.

"It's just the idea of Mr Lister carrying around a mirror!" He giggled again. "What good would a mirror be?"

"If we knew where to look then I think one of our witches could help. Do you have an idea which hotel you were being taken to?" The Scientist pulled up a map of the city on the console.

"That's not going to do much good, The Witch took us through so many turns even I was confused." The map of the City of Bearth looked as if a toddler had scribbled on a sheet of paper and somebody took that and built buildings in the blank spaces. No wonder no one drove, it would be chaos.

"Come on, I think that if your witch took you where she, as a witch, would normally stay then you will be in luck." The Scientist led them through corridor after corridor of the underground. They had been in the mood common areas of the underground which had quite a few cats milling about, but with every door they passed through there were less and less. The place was huge, a city below a city. Only a small portion was dedicated to horticulture. Before most of the cats that occupied the underground were either refugee civilians or obvious Cartel. Now the number of dark glasses began to dwindle and were replaced with white coats, a few wore lensless glasses like The Scientist's. They passed a small group who wore yellow lenses. "Pilots." The Scientist explained at Crowley's questioning look. "If we have time later I'll have to show you my lab and the shipyard. It is quite impressive. Right through here."

The hall they walked down now was more of a rough tunnel than anything. It made the demon feel very underground. They came to a door with a mirror on it. The Scientist pressed his hand to the surface. After a moment it shimmered and a face appeared. "What do you want?" Said the face testily, "don't you know I'm busy!"

We will call this cat The Operator. This is not his official title, but seeing as his official title was earned when he was in his tenth year of kitty school and involved a pumpkin, a microwave, and years of embarrassment, we will call him The Operator. He was a warlock, of sorts. He'd found his knack in scrying and had made a career of it with the Cartel. There wasn't a mirror he couldn't access, and he made sure you knew it too.

"Whatever you are doing in there can wait, we need your help."

 

The hotel room was a mess. Arnold Judas Rimmer was a mess. This whole bloody trip was a mess. Rimmer hadn't heard from anyone, in hours. Lister was burning up with fever and no amount of the cat witch's herbs or ice water and towels were working. He hadn't seen Lister this sick since he caught pneumonia ages ago. He couldn't do much for him then either, but at least they had the medibay. All Rimmer had was himself and a sinking feeling that he was going to have to go this alone. He'd contacted Holly and Bently, a lot of good comm watches do if nobody would keep the damn things on. The computers had suggested the ice towels, but all they could really do was sit pretty in space and hope to not get boarded. 

Lister lay in the nest of ice towels. He was shivering and sweating at the same time. Occasionally he would come to for a few minutes and mumble about this or that. He seemed to talk a lot about Fiji and cats, and for some odd reason lotion and baskets. At one point in a very disturbing fever fit he had sat straight up and looked right at Rimmer. "They're coming!" He said I a calm quiet that shook Rimmer to his light bee. "They're coming, all four. He can't have you." 

Rimmer licked his lips… "Who?"

"Death." Then Lister had passed back out.

Now Rimmer sat by his bedside rubbing ice on Lister's face. He had stripped him of his long johns long ago and was relieved to find boxers underneath. "You're going to be fine." He wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself or Lister, "you're fine. We've been through this before haven't we, Listy?" He wasn't expecting an answer, "Remember? It rained fish, and I got to see a guy spontaneously combust. That was a laugh? Right? And that time you had the mumps? We got through that, didn't we?"

"Fish…" mumbled Lister.

"Yeah, see, you remember, you're fine. Just relax." He smoothed Lister's sweaty hair. "The others will be back any minute and we can get out of here and you can play your guitar all you want. I'll even let you plug it in." He laid his head down on the edge of the bed and continued to stroke. He closed his eyes tight and thought...

"Just don't die."


	21. Chapter 21

Kryten, Crowley, The Scientist, and The Operator were in what could only be described as a hall of mirrors. Hundreds of them. With just a word and a rune The Operator had brought them to life. "Don't touch," he warned them, "if you do they will see us, and I'm not about to go spending all afternoon cleaning up your grubby fingerprints. Everybody pick a section to search."

To Crowley it looked like a scene in an old movie where the token rich guy would be watching a wall of televisions, each on different channels. I'm this case each television was a mirror, some large, some small, all flipping through images of empty rooms, cats preening, and in a few cases a very startled witch. Even though they had narrowed down the search to one of four hotels there were still what seemed to be an infinite amount of mirrors to cycle through. This was going to take a while.

 

Cat had been stripped. It was one of the first things the guards had done before throwing him into the cell. They had laughed as he screamed and clawed to get at the jacket, teasing him with it. Finally, on his last try, his nails caught something, his prize. He sat huddled alone in the corner of the tiny cell, soaking wet in nothing but his boxer briefs. The guards here apparently liked to go all Planet of the Apes every once in a while and would blast him with a fire hose. He wouldn't even make a sound when they did that, just turn his back against the onslaught and wait it out. Vaguely he worried about the others, where they were, if they were okay, but really he had only one thing on his mind.

He gripped the little fishbone tight in his fist, the pin dug into his hand and the pain fueled his rage. They may kill him, but he was taking that horse guy with him.

 

When The Operator said it would take a while Crowley didn't know he meant hours. At one point he had pushed his glasses up on his head to rub at his tiring eyes. That drew a double take from The Scientist. Crowley rolled tired yellow eyes at the cat. "You really didn't think I wore these just for the aesthetic, did you?" The Scientist looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but went back to the task at hand. Now was not the time to test the demon. It was only a few hours to sunset. Crowley was about to give up on the human and just snap himself to the surface and attempt his rescue on his own when Kryten spoke up.

"That's them! I just know it!" The mirror he looked at was solid red.

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yes. That is Mr Lister's garment, I'd know that stain anywhere. He must have hung his underwear on the mirror for some reason. Is there another mirror nearby we can access?"

Crowley had a second thought about that. Maybe if Lister was naked and alone with Rimmer then perhaps they had figured some things out and weren't in a position to be interrupted. He knew pining when he saw it, he'd spent 6000 years perfecting the art.

Before he could speak up the image changed. What he saw was just as disturbing, but in a different way.

Rimmer was kneeling beside a bed, obviously crying. His top half was draped over a prone Lister. Crowley's heart dropped to his stomach when he saw the state of the man. He was a shade that no human had the right to be and was obviously very, very, ill. 

Rimmer jumped startled at the sound of Kryten's voice booming into the room. "Oh, Mister Lister, sir, I'm so glad…. Mister Lister, are you okay? Oh, no, no, no. What happened, is he..?" The hologram looked up to see Kryten's face huge on the mirror attached to the ceiling. It was as if he were a bug in a jar and the mechanoid was his captor. 

"Where the smeg have you been?!" Rimmer craned his neck to see the faces on the ceiling. "Lister's sick and I don't know what happened to Aziraphale and those damned cats. He's burning with fever and I… I… Just get back here!"

"Aziraphale has been captured, along with the cats, they're scheduled to be executed in…" Crowley turned to talk to someone off screen (off mirror?) "We've been here nine hours!? That means… what time is sunset?" He turned back to peer into Rimmer's jar, "two and a half hours." He went out of sight. 

The Assistant was on another mirror. "We're about to go cityside, doors open in twenty minutes. Four temples have been burnt to the ground, two more unconfirmed. The riot is dying down and we are going to take the city. If you're coming, now's the time." 

Crowley weighed his options. It was obvious that Lister was in no way able to withstand confrontation, shit, the poor guy didn't look like he could stand at all. Kryten was sending out Rimmer a barrage of questions about his state and it didn't sound good. Maybe it would be better to go with an army at his heels. But he couldn't just let the human lay there, his brain frying with fever. He pushed Kryten back out of his way. "Listen, we can't come get you now, they're going to kill your cat friends and quite possibly destroy my husband all together. I'm going to try something, maybe we can get yours up and running enough to meet us at the execution site. Apparently it's going to be public. Uncover Lister and stand back."

Crowley blew on the mirror in front of him, fogging it up. Rimmer watched from his side as the demon's image became cloudy. The condensation from his breath seemed to be forming on their side of the mirror now. It grew and became almost like a fog that wafted down to the prone Lister and like a wisp of reversed vapor disappeared down the man's throat. He choked and coughed and his eyes opened wide as he sat straight up. He sputtered and coughed.

Lister wasn't well, by any means, but at least he was conscious, sort of. Rimmer had to dress him. Why the hell did he wear so many layers? Rimmer forwent the long johns and almost gave up trying to get the leathers up Lister's thighs. Where's some smegging cornstarch when you need it, he muttered, but finally got them up. Lister leaned on him swaying a little.

"Owmuch timewegot?" He muttered.

"Almost two hours. Give me your arm." He slid a threadbare shirt that was probably once black onto the sick man and did up a couple of buttons. "We're going to have to leg it pretty hard to get there in time." Rimmer bent down to pick up Lister's jacked which had been discarded on the floor. He grabbed it by the bottom accidentally and when he picked it up the beer tabs that Lister had been squirreling away spilled out along with something round that bounced once and rolled off under a chair. He chased after it. 

Rimmer's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he rolled the little ball around in the palm of his hand. He knew those scratches anywhere. He glanced over at Lister who stood leaning on the wall, eyes closed and sweating profusely. He found the ball's mate still in the pocket of the jacket. He'd looked for them when he came back and had just assumed they were misplaced. Had Lister had them all this time? Why? He swallowed the lump in his throat and poured them back into the pocket. He didn't have time for this now. "Come on," he threw Lister's arm over his shoulder and let the door slam behind them.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought that a little aside for the sake of expediting Famine would be appropriate. I'm winding up for the finale. I know, I know, I said that a couple of chapters ago. I just have some last minute decisions to make. 
> 
> Side note: I may have snuck some extra bits of plot and afterthoughts in some of my comment replies, so if you feel like going through the comment section on this work then you may find it amusing. 
> 
> If you have any questions about this madness feel free to ask, I'll try to elaborate on anything that I can without spoiling anything. 
> 
> If you've made it this far then you are the reason I'm writing this and I love you with all my little heart.

Famine was quite pleased with the results of the riot. Tons of the Chung's hoarded food had gone up in smoke and that was only the beginning. This would be a fine winter. He could tell that the clergy was worried. It had, after all, not gone according to their plans, but then again, who cared. Let the bastards starve with the rest of them. He never really liked them anyway, seeing them sitting there stuffing their faces like it would get them closer to God. Preposterous! But then again he couldn't help but laugh at the irony. Using gluttony to bring about starvation was one of his better ideas. It was nice having a body again, having an existence after all of the gaping holes in time that man had barely occupied. Certainly he would have gotten greater satisfaction working his magic on humans but the cats were a fun distraction nonetheless, although he did find himself having to implement different means to his ends, but there was still the satisfaction of a job well done.

Then there was the angel and the demon to deal with. He'd attempted contact with both sides but had gotten the old answering service run around from either side. It was frustrating to no end. Sure, it had been a few dozen millennia since he'd had had any real contact with either side, but it wasn't like Gabriel to be out of the office. Perhaps their little guerilla war had escalated while he was not corporate. They had never gotten the all out war they craved for so long and had resorted to doing things the American way and not out and out saying that there was a war while systematically picking each other off. He hoped they'd get back to him before he took the stage. If they were out there, and they got his messages then they'd be there. If not, well, he'd just hold on to his little prize for a while, and maybe even nab him a matching set. 

It wouldn't be a total loss, he had that rabid feline to dispose of after all. That would be a satisfaction all on its own. He had been able to heal the scratches on his face but for some reason he was left with four very gnarly scars. Each time he looked in the mirror he was reminded of the attack and the subsequent feeling of dread. The sooner this abandoned one was dead the better, but he was going to have some fun first. 

He'd take care of his little witch too. He'd never cared for witches. They'd always made his skin crawl. Mortals shouldn't have such knowledge of the occult. The humans were bad enough, buy these cats seemed to have a natural knack for it. It was no wonder the human witch's always kept the animals as pets, the little fuckers were witches too. He'd peg her with sacrilege, that would work. Maybe they'll have their own little Salem witch trials, feline style.

He walked across the bare boards of the newly constructed platform. This would do. Now, did he want a gallows or something more creative?


	23. Chapter 23

The streets were eerily empty. Most of the rioters had either tired themselves out or had moved on due to the promise of a new spectacle, the first ever public execution in feline history. It seemed as though the powers that be had decided for one final show of their might after the guards had swept through the streets that day. They didn't know that the opposition had called off their cats above ground and were congregating to retake the city under an unexpected but very welcome general.

It wasn't an official title, but it was obvious who these cats, dressed smartly in black and red uniforms, were loyal to. They wore a shield on their shoulders depicting a snake. Just a little miracle really, a last minute decision to give the nervous numbers a little more faith in their cause, or perhaps maybe a bit of vanity. As they worked their way through the winding streets he was amazed at how effortlessly quiet they were.

In another part of the city the stomps of two pairs of boots could be heard echoing between the buildings. "Right-o, two lefts and a right coming up." 

"So, a right, then two lefts?" Rimmer asked Holly, who was giving them directions via comm watch.

"No, two lefts then a right."

"You said right then two lefts and a right."

"I said right, but not right. Right? It's two lefts then a right."

"Smeg, Holly, put Bently on, you're bloody useless."

"I thought I was doing quite well. Ungrateful is what you are."

"We're being followed." Murmured Lister as he leaned against the hologram.

"What!? Where?" Rimmer pulled the man flush against a building and peered around the corner.

A small, fluffy white dog was running towards them.

"The cats have dogs?"

Lister shrugged, apparently the action was too much for him and he slid down the wall of the building into a sitting position. The dog ran up and started licking his face, he didn't have the strength, or, to be honest, the desire to stop it. 

Rimmer pulled the little guy off, keeping it back with his foot while he yanked Lister back up leaning him against the wall again. "No time for snogging dogs m'laddo, we're running out of time." He didn't want to say it, but at this rate it would be midnight before they got there. He looked up at the sky, a very angry dark cloud was beginning to form over the city. Just what they needed. He had set a timer in his mind's eye, it read 22 minutes, 47 seconds. Smeg. They weren't even halfway. He glanced over at Lister. Whatever Crowley had done was wearing off. He wasn't going to make it walking. Rimmer looked back up at the darkened sky. He'd have to improvise.

"Lister," no response, "Dave!" 

He looked up this time from under sweaty brows. "Mmmm?"

"We aren't going to make it this way."

Rimmer's internal clock was just a small portion of the things Rimmer had discovered about himself during his time as Ace. It was both overwhelming and disturbing at first these new reminders that, whatever he once was, he was no longer human. Somehow being soft light and not having a body was easier to deal with. It was sort of like being a ghost. Not pleasant, but mentally still mostly human. Once he interfaced with the Wildfire he realized that Legion had given him much more than a body. He wasn't indestructible, he knew that from the beginning, but as long as his light bee was protected so was he. He'd also figured out that his weight was however strongly he decided his light bee should be pressing his image into the floor. He was, if you thought of Arnold J Rimmer as being his physical form, i.e. the light bee, always in flight. Figuring this out had been a breakthrough, followed by a series of very painful trials and errors. What he did wasn't flying, not in the sense that say a certain angel and demon did, but more like hurtling himself in a certain direction and hoping to miss the ground, or a building, or a tree, or, in one instance, a very unlucky cow. 

"Listy, I'm going to do something crazy. Properly insane. Are you with me?"

"Mmmmhmmm."

"I knew you would be. Okay, put your arms around me. You're going to have to stay awake and..." He picked up Lister's arms and wrapped them around his neck, trying not to think about how close they were going to have to be for this to work. "Hang on." He gripped Lister tightly around his waist and couldn't help but feel a little warm when the man's head settled on his shoulder. He wished… no, he didn't have time for that now, instead he took a deep, unneeded breath. 

They shot into the sky like a rocket, leaving only a black and blue streak and a very confused bichon frise behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed some tags for upcoming chapters.


	24. Chapter 24

Aziraphale looked terrible. He hadn't been subjected to the same type of treatment The Cat had been subjected to. Actually he was pretty much left alone. He looked terrible, in his opinion, because his suit was in total ruins. Without his divine intervention the fabric had begun to rot. His right jacket sleeve hung around his wrist. The cat glamour was long gone, along with his bow tie and the soles of both shoes. His shirt hung on by the collar and he didn't even want to think about the state of his underthings. He was being led out onto a stage by armed guards. He supposed the guards could discorporate him if he chose to run, but that would just release him from the bonds of his manacles. He wondered if he could use a holographic corporation like that Arnold chap with the unfortunate middle name that he was becoming so fond of. He was placed on a stool, downstage right, with a guard on either side. 

The Witch was led out next, she came thrashing and kicking in the arms of two big guards. She was gagged, a precaution against her wards. A large pole had been erected stage left, her wrists were lashed to a ring above her head and she was tied to the pole. Aziraphale thought of Agnes when he saw her, but being stripped down to just a slip he doubted if there was any gunpowder under her skirts. She writhed against her restraints, cursing through the cloth in her mouth. 

Aziraphale gasped when he saw what came next. Two parallel poles were raising up from under the stage, a ring on the top inside of each. When they stopped the angel could see a set of matching rings at the bottom. He knew who this was for right away. From the reaction Famine had to The Cat's attack he wouldn't have been surprised if it were a crucifix instead. He looked out at the large mass of cats gathered around the stage. Cameras were floating in the wings, this would be aired live. Since when did Famine become so vain, so public? He didn't remember the horsemen being so… insane. 

The Assistant was introduced, Famine made his way onto the stage, stopping to run a finger down the arm of the writhing witch. The Chungus was on his platform was not far behind. He scanned the audience, more than half wore gray. A group of clergy stood to the side near the entrance of the temple that the stage had been erected against. He smoothed out his robe and grabbed the mic.

"Hello, my friends. I'm so glad you could make it here at such a trying time. I'm sure you've all heard of the losses in last night's riots.." a collective hiss rose from the crowd. "Yes, I know. Such terrible losses, and for what? A desire to prevent the equal redistribution of foodstuffs in this era of shortages." More boos and hisses. "This witch!" He turned and pointed, "this witch has been charged with possession of untaxed foods. There's no telling what sort of hoards her and her kind have hidden in their witches holes."

"Sacrilege!" Shouted the Chungus. Famine wished he hadn't insisted on joining him on stage, he was a distraction at best and an eyesore at worst. 

"Exactly. Witches have been a thorn in the side of cat society for far too long. An example shall be made."

The crowd didn't seem quite so enthusiastic about this revelation. Witches were just as much a part of cat culture as shiny things and not being able to come up with a second thing that's an intricate part of cat culture. Aziraphale noticed this and began to scan the crowd more thoroughly. He saw a cat in the front holding a small mirror, face out. That was odd. The cat wore a grey robe, but he was sure he saw a thick lock of hair snaking out of their gray hood. 

Famine continued his rant, turning back to talking about the riots and shortages. "Why," He asked, "would someone want to start such violence, to work up out beautiful city into such a frenzy, to be so desperate in their seeking of anarchy as to set off a bomb! Oh, he denies it, the damnable liar he is.."

It took six of them, muscles straining to keep hold of the feral beast they carried. They had him by each arm and each leg carrying him face down. He managed to wrench a foot free making contact with the face of the unfortunate guard who had been struggling to hold it. The cat went sprawling blood gushing from his nose. More guards poured out and together they managed to get two arms and two legs attached to the poles set up center stage. The poles lifted once again, bringing the prisoners feet off the floor. 

The Cat held himself still in his restraints, ignoring the biting pain at his ankles and wrists. His abdominals rippled from the effort and his fists clenched tight. The sun dipped below the blackening cloud cover bathing the stage I'm an orangish glow. 

Famine approached him, an angry grin cracking the newly healed scars on his face, a bit of black blood seeped from where one met the corner of his mouth. "You…" he began. The Cat hissed and spit in his face. Famine wiped it away with his sleeve, only mildly surprised at the black smear that accompanied it. "You," he began again, "have been charged with possession of hoarded food and inciting a riot… among other things. You have been sentenced to death. But first," Famine strode over to the side of the stage, taking something from a nearby table. The angel's eyes widened when he saw what he now held. Famine pressed it's handle up under The Cat's chin lifting his face, smiling at Cat's scowl. "It took me quite a while to figure out what to with you," he wasn't speaking into the mic, but directly to his prisoner, he wasn't aware that his voice was still being picked up by it. "What would be a proper punishment for one such as you. Something so pathetic, so useless, so worthless that your own people didn't even want you. They left you behind didn't they, cully? Abandoned, how sad for a little kitty cat. You thought you could attack me and get away with it? Oh, no, I have something for you, a little gift. I made it myself. We call this," he held the black leather object, "a cat of nine tails."


	25. Chapter 25

It was quiet. The quiet came from the booted cats in dark uniforms that was beginning to surround the temple yard. The quiet came from the figure with the dark glasses that had just begun snaking his way through the crowd. The quiet came from the spectators, their eyes wide and mouths slack as they watched with horror at the goings on. The quiet came from the angel who watched through tears, jumping when the crowd jumped, with the only sound that echoed through the air. Most of all The Cat was quiet. His silence was louder than the fwack of the whip on his back. His face unchanged his fists clenched tight. The pin attached to the fish tore into his flesh now, drawing blood. He was vaguely aware of the blood that ran down his back soaking his shorts and dripping to the hardwood boards of the stage. He glanced up at the fist which held the pin, focusing on the tiny trickle of blood that was escaping from his fist. This blood was good, it was right.

The quiet was broken by a loud thunderclap, causing Famine to stop his ministrations and look up at the darkened sky. The sun still shone low under the blanket of clouds, but it was obvious that a downpour was imminent. He'd have to hurry this up. He raised his arm for another blow, but was stopped short. Magic. He smiled. Crowley. He began to scan the audience for the demon but his attention caught something else. Something blue headed right for the stage. 

Stopping was not one of Rimmer's strong suits. In fact, he'd never really gotten the hang of it. He was, however, able to turn their bodies enough to get himself between Lister and the building before they crashed into it. He only flickered a second and managed to not lose power. Lister lay crumpled against him. He was surprised to find him conscious. 

The blood was good, there was more now, the pin cut into his hand so much Cat had to loosen his grip. It was growing, changing. 

Crowley could see the discs that Cat now held in his bound fist. He knew what it was, and now he knew why.

Famine, backed away from the impact at the back of the stage, wondering if the blue streak had been a bomb, perhaps sent by the demon. 

Cat felt his hand become free almost as soon as Famine entered his line of vision. The horseman was distracted.

A fluffy white dog ran across the stage.

It took Famine a second to feel it, to look down and see the disk, the almost bowl, jutting out of his chest. It was sunk in more than halfway. He recognized it immediately. It was, after all, one of his own. 

The Cat's feet barely touched wood before he sprang back up to pounce on his captor, second disk in hand. Famine was flat on his back. Cat raised the disk high above his head. "Don't come between a cat and his dinner!" He growled and brought the second scale crashing down into his face. Blood, black as night, splashed from the wound and then the being known as Famine dissipated in a cloud of black smoke.

Rimmer had acquired a gun from a less than willing guard, he made it on stage, Lister by his side. He immediately went to untie the witch, her being the closest. "Cloister!" She called as soon as she was free of her gag. "I knew you would come to save us."

Lister just stood there, sweating, unable to process her words through the fever.

"Sacrilege!" bellowed The Grand Chungus, Lister turned slowly at the sound, "that is not Clo-" began The Chungus, but he didn't get to finish the thought, he had spontaneously combusted. The rig on which he had sat smouldered with burning fat and robes, nearby clergy stood dripping with gore.

Crowley was removing Aziraphale's manacles when the great cat had exploded. "Was that you?" The angel asked, rubbing his wrists. Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale miracled his clothes right as soon as he was free forgetting they were being watched. The spectators stood in rapt attention, among them now were many Cartel soldiers. Somewhere along the line they had forgotten their battle, caught up in the spectacle.

Witches held up mirrors, broadcasting to those who didn't have electronic connections. Rumors had been flying around Bearth and its surrounding cities for the last few days. Tales of Cloister's return and a cat they were calling The Abandoned One were popular among witches and their kin. The return of The Bringer was a more recent rumor, but was taking off quickly. Now it seemed that these rumors may have had some weight behind them. A few even went so far as to think that the third prisoner looked remarkably like old drawings of The Orange Priest, they lost all doubt when they witnessed him miraculously repair his clothes. 

Lister stumbled forward, the name Cloister could be heard spoken throughout the audience. It wasn't quite a chant. He stood there squinting at the crowd. The orange cast of the sun was beginning to fade as it sank. "I uh…" he began, a guard scrambled across the stage to hand him the microphone, still covered in Famine's black blood. He didn't notice. Instead the young cat got down on a knee, holding it up reverently. Lister frowned trying to get the words from his fevered brain to his mouth. "'s not right, fighting," he shook his head to clear it, "not over Cloister, not over me. 'm not God. God is inef-" It was too much, Lister passed out. The sound of his body hitting the boards was drowned out by another loud thunderclap followed by a rolling rumble from the heavy cloud cover. Then a new sound, wet sounds lots of them, followed by surprised yelps of both pain and delight. It was raining.

A fish slapped Aziraphale in the face as it fell. Crowley grabbed at it getting hold after only losing it twice. It flopped and gasped its death throes. He didn't have time to study it because it was knocked out of his hand by another just like it. He haphazardly looked up at the sky. It was raining fish.


	26. Chapter 26

The Cat still lay hunched over the black mark that was once famine, unaware of anything but the pain. He could feel it fully now, clawing down his back, biting at his wrists and ankles. Still, he felt relief, a sense of freedom, a sense that he was no longer in pursuit. The hunt was over. He didn't even hear the pained hiss that escaped his lips whenever the first fish slammed into the tattered remains of his back. He did notice when another body pressed over the top of his. The Witch had thrown herself atop him protecting his torn flesh from the strange rain. He grabbed one of her hands, pulling it around to hold it shaking to his chest.

 

Aziraphale made it to The Cat before Crowley. He knelt down beside The Cat. His wounds had stopped bleeding, it was the best The Witch could do on her own. "You did very well today, my boy. You can rest now." He touched him gently between the shoulder blades and Cat was healed. He fell over onto his side resting his head on The Witch's thigh. 

Rimmer slid haphazardly across the fish slicked stage trying to get to Lister. Something fluffy and white brushed his leg as it ran past him. He glanced down, expecting it to be that dog from before, but it wasn't. It was a lamb. The creature looked up at him and opened its mouth in a bleat, no sound came out. Soon he was being swept along by a stampede of lambs and sheep that were pouring out from behind the stage and leaping off the front. He made it to Lister, using his body to shield him from tiny cloven hooves. "Help me!" He yelled to Crowley and Aziraphale, "He won't wake up!"

Crowley made a path for the two, sliding away dead fish and sheep alike. "What the everloving fuck, stampeding lambs? Seriously?" 

"They're hallucinations." Rimmer explained.

"Hallucinations?" 

"His fever, he's hallucinating, and they're solid… smeg, will you hurry up you act like you've never seen it rain fish before."

"Point taken."

"You can heal him, can't you?" Rimmer asked as they approached. He didn't know what he'd do if they said no. In the distance, atop a nearby building a dark figure watched with a toothy grin. Rimmer told himself it was just another hallucination.

"I've lain hands already," Aziraphale was doubtful, and it showed, "more than once. Crowley?"

He nodded. The hologram seemed to deflate. "It was through a mirror," he said, as if that made any difference. He'd try again, and keep trying until he couldn't anymore. He knew the look on Rimmer's face, the look of desperation. He didn't know him very well, and to be honest the guy could come off as quite a git at times, but he wouldn't wish how he'd felt, millennia ago, in a certain burning bookshop in Soho, on his worst enemies. Well, maybe a few… "I suppose," he said, taking Aziraphale's hand and placing it on the sweaty forehead that lay in the holograms lap, "we'll just have to try again, together this time."

Crowley put a hand atop the angel's and another on Lister's chest, he could sense the illness, but it wasn't like anything he'd felt before, it was different, evolved. It clung to the man, body and soul. 

Aziraphale could feel the healing magic from Crowley being pushed through his own, almost overtaking it, using it as a filter, borrowing his grace and using it as his own. The sheer power of it was overwhelming, but he hung on, adding his own, pulling from sources he didn't know he had. 

The rain stopped, the sky cleared, but Aziraphale and Crowley hadn't noticed. The illness was still there. The celestials were putting all they had into the man. The last man, on the brink of death, a last ditch effort to save one of those they'd loved for so long. They didn't notice when their wings released, almost simultaneously, or that the body they touched had begun to rise. Nor did they hear The Witch start to chant an attempt at adding healing magic of her own, or when the witches scattered throughout the crowd joined in her chant. 

Kryten had been with the Cartel army and had been slowly working his way to the stage. His progress had been impeded by his inherent politeness then by the mayhem caused by the rain. He'd almost made it when he was knocked over by a silently screaming sheep. With The Scientist's help he righted himself and could not believe his eyes. There floated Dave Lister a good nine feet above the stage. The angel on his right, demon on his left. A fiery red poured from the demon, a divine white from the angel, the power surrounded the man, throbbing with the beat of a chant that was being picked up not only from The Witch and her ilk, but from most of the crowd. 

Rimmer watched from below, on his knees, surrounded by fish, tears streaming from his face, he uttered a single prayer. "Please…"

The lights of both seemed to shoot into the man now, filling him with both the divine and the cursed, a balance of power, filling the human, lifting him and exploding outward in a wave that knocked down cat and beast alike. Lister fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut, but was caught by strong arms of light below. He squinted up at the hologram, "Wha?" He began, but his words were caught up in a crushing hug. 

"Listy…" was Rimmer could say as he buried his face into the scouser's shoulder. 

"Rimmer, man, you're crushing me. I can't breathe." The hologram pulled away, frightened that he'd overstepped, but Lister was smiling.

"Right, then." Rimmer was now acutely aware of the eyes on him. He let go of Lister and stood up. 

The angel and demon had set down on the stage again, putting their wings away. Sheep milled about and the spectators were righting themselves again. Kryten clamoured onto the stage, with a push from The Scientist and a boost of power from the demon. 

"Oh! Aren't you the cutest thing!" Aziraphale said, bending over to pick up the Bichon frise that had been doing figure eights around the group. 

"Too bad you can't keep her." Rimmer said, "She's a hallucination, as long as they're still here Lister won't be better."

"I feel fine, Rimmer," he got up to prove it, "better than since we got here."

"Still," Rimmer pointed at the dog, which promptly licked his finger, "she's a symptom."

"Why would I hallucinate a dog, or sheep."

"Lambs," Crowley corrected, "well mostly."

"Silent lambs." Said Rimmer.

"That fucking movie." 

"At least there's dinner." Cat held up a fish.

"Tonight the cats of Bearth will feast." Agreed The Witch. The couple stood huddled together, still in their underthings. Cat in blood soaked boxer shorts and the female in a white shift slip stained with the same blood. 

"Look at them Crowley," Aziraphale said, ruffling the dogs fur as he cuddled it. He gave the demon a questioning look. A look he knew all too well. 

The demon snapped the couple dressed. Cat wore his previous suit, the one that had been destroyed by laughing guards, and The Witch was similarly dressed in a glimmering white floor length gown. The fact that the dress seemed absolutely matrimonial was not lost on the angel. He gave the demon a look. Crowley just shrugged.

"The fish will take care of themselves. It seems sushi is on tonight's nenu, but what about the lambs and the canine." Kryten asked. 

Crowley watched his angel cuddling the pup, he was getting attached already. "I suppose, if they weren't hallucinations then it wouldn't be a problem anymore."

"Oh, could you?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley couldn't believe that he was going to let Aziraphale adopt Buffalo Bill's dog. He snapped his fingers just to see his angel smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was never my intention to include The Silence of the Lambs in this fic, but it just sort of happened. Also I like the idea of Aziraphale carrying around a cutesy white dog. 
> 
> Nor was it my intention to make this a sic fic I the case of Lister, but once I decided it needed to rain fish I knew what I had to do.
> 
> I have an epilogue in mind for this work, but it's 3 am so it'll have to wait.
> 
> Your comments are always appreciated, your feedback is what keeps my writing bug alive.
> 
> Love you all!


	27. Chapter 27

If I said that The Cartel took the city without any shots fired it would be a lie. There was a small group of clergy who, upon seeing the events that happened on what would later be called Cloister's Rain, knew they were fucked. A good number of them had been in attendance at the churchyard but fled just after The Cat, who had been titled The Abandoned One, miraculously broke free of his bonds. They were skirmishes mostly, only a few were killed outright. 

It was the same with the city guard. Any time someone, man or cat, gets put in charge of others there is a chance of corruption. Some were just doing what they had to do to eat. Take the young cat who had been kicked in the face while carrying The Abandoned One for example. He had cried out apologies and prayers of redemption as he half crawled across the stage stopping only to prostrate himself at Lister's feet. Lister was thoroughly and utterly embarrassed, and what was worse, he wasn't even really sure what had happened. He didn't like the way this guy seemed to be worshipping at his feet, and when he looked out at the crowd, he saw a similar sort of awe.

"Smeggin' hell, get up, man, cat, whatever." He pulled the frightened cat to his feet. "I am not a god." He turned to the crowd. "I AM NOT A GOD!" He yelled, exasperated. He was still rather weak and the effort made him a bit dizzy, he wasn't even sure if the people at the back heard him. Kryten began to dig around on the stage, coming up with the microphone, it felt like fish as was sticky with a black substance that he didn't want to think about what it could be he began to speak into it "I am not-" a loud wave of feedback caused much gnashing of teeth, it was replaced by the sound of a piano.

"Fear me you lords and lady preachers  
I descend upon your earth from the skies  
I command your very souls you unbelievers  
Bring before me what is mine  
The seven seas of rhye"

Lister covered his face with his hands. "Smeg, Bently, any song but this." There was laughter coming from his and Rimmer's comm watches. It wasn't Bently's. If Holly had a belly he'd been holding it as he chuckled on the tiny screen.

"Can you hear me you peers and privvy counsellors  
I stand before you naked to the eyes  
I will destroy any man who dares abuse my trust  
I swear that you'll be mine  
The seven seas of rhye"

The song continued. "Holly, wat'r you doin? I'm about to make a speech here."

"I thought it was quite appropriate, considering."

"Well it's not, turn it off."

"You'd think someone who just about died would be a little bit kinder to his friends." Holly didn't cut the music.

Bently cut in on the conversation, his head pushing Holly's aside. "It's not my doing, though I thoroughly approve. I thought you should know, there's a Gelf garbage tanker headed this way, they'll be able to pick up the Dwarf's signature in about 72 hours, give or take."

"We've got bigger fish to fry right now." Lister winced as soon as he heard the words come from his own stupid punny mouth. He wasn't the only one. He could literally feel the eyes roll around him. 

Kryten would have pulled his out just to send them bowling across the stage if it wasn't for the possibility of them getting trampled by a sheep. "I suppose a tidy up is in order." The mechanoid looked positively excited about it. "Not all the fish landed in easily accessible places. Rooftops, gutters, trees, all have to be checked or this city is going to be absolutely reeking after a few days." He turned to The Scientist, who had latched onto him as being the one member of the party in which he wasn't in total awe. "Could you help me with organizing the effort?" 

"No problem, I'll call The Girl (with the gang of kits) her and her little friends will be glad to help. She's a very good climber." The Scientist showed a hint of pride in his last remark. 

"What about the sheep?" Asked Rimmer, "I doubt if there are any cat shepherds." He remembered a quip he'd heard I the past about herding cats, but didn't think that's what they meant.

Lister pulled the scared, bleeding guard back to his feet again, him having sunk back down to his knees. The cat swayed, he looked like he was about to vomit the blood he'd probably swallowed all over Lister's boots. "We have a shepherd right here, don't we?"

The young guard nodded slowly, not sure what he was agreeing to. 

Lister looked to the angel and the demon. The angel was caught up in cuddling his fuzzy new ward. The demon folded his arms. 

"C'mon, he's got to be able to work and smell and stuff." He did his best impression of Aziraphale's puppy dog eyes. 

"Nnngt" the demon huffed.

"Crowley, help the lad." Aziraphale doubled down on the look.

Crowley noticed a smirk on the face of the hologram, the guy knew he was whipped. He wondered what that bastard's reaction would be if his own shorter, fluffier counterpart was directing a look like that to him. The one Lister was giving him now was in jest, but he bet he'd used something similar on Rimmer in earnest before and ten to one it had worked.

He snapped and the guard's nose was healed. The Sheppard took a long inhale in surprise. He began to sink again. "Oh no you don't," Lister stopped him, "none of that, you have work to do."

"Work? Me?"

"See these sheep? Get em a together and put em in a field. Take care of them, they're your responsibility now." The Sheppard looked panicked. There were an awful lot of the animals, after all. "Get some friends to help you. Oh, and no eating them." Scratch that, the cat was awful skinny. "Wait.. you can eat one of the big ones, or any that are hurt or something, but these are to be kept and bred. Tell everyone. Well, go on then."

The Sheppard began to back away.

"Dear boy, you will need this." Aziraphale pulled a white crook out of thin air and passed it to The Sheppard, who stared at the shining object in awe. "Off with you, now. Gather your herd."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's still a chapter or two to go with this part.


	28. Chapter 28

"I'll give it to these cats, they do know how to throw a banger." Lister was pretty drunk, they had imported a supply of booze from The Bently and Red Dwarf for their own consumption, the local cat brew being what Crowley described as what it would actually taste like if you drank Bailey's out of a shoe, but not any shoe, the shoe of a chef after a twelve hours shift. 

Crowley made a noise of many letters that somehow expressed his agreement. 

"'s nice to see em like this. More like… more like I'd imagined it'd be." He belched, "I'm never eatin' fish again."

It had been a citywide feast. The party they attended now was located in a hangar turned ballroom located in the Cartel city under Bearth. Were they really a Cartel anymore? It was beginning to look like they were well on their way to becoming a government. The Boss had worked harder in the past 20 hours than she'd ever worked before, and that was saying a lot. Finally The Scientist had pulled her away from her screens and mirrors, handed the kits over to a wet nurse, and drug her protesting to the party. There was plenty of work to be done tomorrow, but now was the time for celebrating. 

The crops, which had been barely started in the underground garden had a sudden growth spurt after a very stern talking to by a certain demon and now they were weeks away from harvest. Most of the fish that had fallen were now in the bellies of contented cats, but these new beasts Cloister had given them seemed promising. They were pretty tasty too. A few had been sacrificed for the feast and what remained was under strong guard. The Boss had even been informed that their hair could be used to make clothing, such versatile creatures. She wondered if they'd replace rats one day. Probably not. She wouldn't worry about that now, now she had more important things on her mind, like dancing.

Aziraphale was practically skipping across the room as he headed over to the table, his face was red and he was puffing a little as he sat down across Crowley's lap. "Having fun, angel?" The demon asked, wrapping his arms around his husband to help him balance on skinny thighs.

"My, yes." He pulled a white lace fan from a breast pocket too small to hold such an item and fanned himself. "It's quite extraordinary how fast they picked up the gavotte, I only had to show them once. It took me months." he took a sip of Crowley's drink while the demon still held it. "I'm afraid I've been out gavotted." With a flick of his wrist, Aziraphale closed his fan and used it to point across the room. "Your Rimmer seems to be quite good at it."

Lister, who'd had his back to the party, turned in his chair. He almost fell out of it. There was Rimmer being pulled along by a line of cats just dancing away like it was something he did. 

"He said he was going to show me how to Morris dance."

Crowley and Lister groaned in unison. "Just so long as you do it out of earshot." Lister teased, but he was still smiling. 

He'd actually thought the hologram had left over an hour ago, maybe he was just off making friends. Lister's smile faltered. Maybe he was avoiding him. After dinner Rimmer had practically disappeared. Maybe he'd said something when he was sick to piss him off. Lister's recall of the last two days was spotty at best. He turned back around and leaned on the table trying to ignore the snogging going on across the table from him. 

The angel pulled away from his companion when he felt the emotional change that seemed to have washed over the man. "Crowley, my dear, they have such interesting donuts over at the dessert table, do you think you could get me some."

"Ngk… yeah.. sure" Crowley extracted himself from under the angel and made himself scarce. After a few million years he'd learned how to take a hint.

Aziraphale settled himself into the Crowley warmed chair and began to fan himself again. He frowned as Lister downed his drink. "Perhaps you should let your body recover before you inebriate yourself again."

"..'m fine."

"I'm sure you are." He knew better. "You know, he never left your side. Even after Kryten and Crowley went missing he wouldn't leave you to go look with us."

Lister didn't have to ask who he meant. The few flashes of memories he had from his illness usually had to do with Rimmer, which made it even more confusing that he was avoiding him now. He did remember that night in the tent in the witch's yard. The hologram had shown a gentleness that Lister had never known from him before. He hadn't realized how touch starved he had been until he'd felt those long fingers scratching at his back. It was probably a good thing he'd fallen asleep, the feeling had been both comforting and confusing. He couldn't bring himself to answer the angel.

Aziraphale could feel the love the two held for each other, and the hesitation. It wasn't that he didn't want them to get together, it was just that he worried. How could he rebuild the human race with two men, one of them being dead? Then again, who was he to tell people who they could and couldn't love. "He left for a while, didn't he? He told me about Ace."

"He needed to… he couldn't be the one to break the chain, not for.." he wanted to say that he couldn't have stood to be the one who kept him from achieving the great things that he knew he was capable of. Arnold was more special than he could ever imagine, and he'd wanted him to feel that, to know that. He still did.

"He came back." Aziraphale didn't wait for a response, but continued on. "Long ago, before the Not quite an Apocalypse, Crowley and I were just a couple of hereditary enemies. We had an Arrangement, you see. Helping each other out. It was all very clandestine. Looking back it was quite exciting, sneaking around like a couple of teenagers hiding from their parents. In a way that's what we were, though we both knew better than to take it beyond an occasional night of drinking or a lunch here and there. There would be decades between our meetings, sometimes more, but Crowley would always find his way back to me."

Lister shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "What's your point?"

"There's an old saying that goes 'if you love something set it free…' or something like that. I'm sure you've heard it."

Lister nodded, trying his best to keep his face from revealing too much. 

"It's the second bit that's important. Oh, dear, I'm afraid I'm rambling. I should go find Crowley and see where he's gotten off to with my donuts."

Lister appreciated the out. It had been all he could do to keep from tucking tail and legging it out of there. Had he been that obvious? Sure, he'd always sort of, maybe, had a little bit of a thing for Rimmer, but that ship would have sailed ages ago if Arnold had been on board. They were mates, friends, he guessed. He'd never really been sure where he stood with the guy. One minute they'd be chatting like old friends and the next they'd be at each other's throats, and not in a good way. The guy could be as infuriating as he was handsome. And he was handsome, infuriatingly so, especially when he was smiling and flushed from dancing, like he was now. Smeg, why did Zira have to bring things up now, just when he was starting to have fun. He must have been staring, Rimmer had seen him watching. Their eye contact lasted a very long second then Rimmer turned away, his smile having turning into an unreadable tight lipped not quite a frown. Lister turned around sinking into his chair. He wondered where Kryten was. The Cat had disappeared earlier with The Witch, he didn't want to imagine what they were up to by now.

What they were up to was quite a bit of enthusiastic snogging, both cats feeling something beyond sexual that they each decided it would be best not to mention. It was as exciting as it was scary. Cat hadn't mentioned the whole being a virgin thing, and The Witch hadn't prodded, it didn't matter really. 

Cat was down to his shorts again for the second time today, although the context this time was much nicer. He was struggling with the zipper of the gleaming white dress the Witch wore, and was beginning to consider the consequences of ripping the damn thing off.

"Stop," she said, pulling away.

"Something wrong, beautiful babe?" He asked, stretching forward for another kiss.

"There's something you should know about me, before we go any further…"

Cat frowned, she had sounded nervous. "What is it?"

"I've…" she faltered and took a deep breath, deciding to get it out like she were ripping off a bandage. "I've-only-got-four-nipples!" She spat out all at once, and winced.

Cat grinned, "I can work with that." And pushed her back into the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to give a shout out to Shadwell here. Cat witches don't always have fewer (instead of extra) nipples, but a lot do.
> 
> If you have any questions about loose ends that need to be tied up let me know. I don't want to forget something. 
> 
> I'm thinking about adding and changing some tags, but I'm also worried about spoilers. Suggestions?


End file.
